
Class. 



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Our 

Saturday 

Night 



J. H. MOORE 

Office Editor 
THE GOSPEL MESSENGER 



Elgin, 111. 

Brethren Publishing House 

1910 



^ A $5* 






Copyright, 1910 
By J. H, MOORE 



©CI.A275385 



Introduction. 

The chapters composing this little volume were 
written at different times during a period of over 
twenty-five years of active editorial life. Most of 
them appeared in the publications with which the 
writer has been connected. Some of the chapters are 
given to the public for the first time, while all the 
others have been carefully revised, and a few of 
them rewritten. The collection embraces, what 
has been considered by some of his friends, the 
cream of the author's writings along moral and re- 
ligious lines. Nearly every chapter contains a 
forcible lesson, presented by way of illustration, and 
each chapter may be read independent of all the 
rest. The different chapters were written when the 
author was at his best, and a number of them 
sprang into existence almost on the spur of the 
moment. In a sense, they were born, — not made. It 
is believed that the book will prove interesting and 
helpful to those who admire this class of reading, 
and with this hope it is sent forth on its mission. 

J. H. M. 



BIOGRAPHICAL. 

Born in Salem, Roanoke County, Va., April 8, 1846. At four, 
emigrated with his parents to Woodford County, III., and six 
years g later to Cedar County, Mo. Returned to Southern Illi- 
nois in 1861, and located in Northern Illinois in 1876. United 
with the Church of the Brethren at the age of thirteen, was 
called to the ministry in 1869, and ordained in 1880. Moved to 
Florida in 1884, and returned after seven years. Became edi- 
tor of the Brethren at Work in 1876, and Office Editor of the 
Gospel Messenger in 1883 and in 1891. visited the Bible Lands 
in 1898, and located in Elgin in 1899. 



Index. 

The Yellow-Back Book, 7 

The Godly Minister, 10 

Mush and Milk for Supper, 13 

My Big Book, 17 

The Grand Old Man, 21 

The Copper Kettle, 25 

Master of the Situation, 28 

Seeing an Editor, 32 

Turning from the Wrong, 35 

Calling on Busy People, 39 

Seeking Advice, 43 

A Mistake in Marriage, 46 

In the Woods of Florida, 50 

A Man of One Talent, 55 

On the Rented Farm, 58 

Home, Sweet Home, 62 

The Mistake— How Corrected? 65 

Would Not Charge a Preacher, 69 

House to House Talks, 72 

The Good Name, 76 

Testing Things, 79 

Talking Religion, 82 

Killing the Church, 86 

Some Observations at Church, 89 

The Friend of Birds, 92 

The Anointing, 96 

The Seed We Are Sowing, 101 

Angels Weeping, 105 

Snow-Bound, 108 

The Good Old Time, 112 

The Lord's Day, 115 

5 



6 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

The Wise Mother, 119 

Parents' Mistakes, 123 

Entering Jerusalem, 126 

The Sunbonnet in Jerusalem, 129 

Closing the Door Behind Him, 132 

The Mistake, 135 

The Thorn Removed, 139 

The Stolen Goose, 142 

Satan and Wealth, 144 

The Clock Not Started, 147 

Driven from Home, 151 

The Bible Our Neighbors Read, 154 

The Sunday Dinner, 158 

The Mother and the Daughter, 162 

The Child's Commentary, 164 

The Mind: Its Care, 167 

Giving Up the Semicolon, 170 

Clean Hands, 172 

Grandfather, 175 

Ideal Parents, 179 

The Beggar, 182 

Flowers for the Living, 186 

The Brave Mother, 189 



Our Saturday Night 



The Yellow-Back Book. 

It was my privilege to attend a protracted meet- 
ing, conducted by the Brethren about fifty-two 
years ago. It was the first meeting of the kind I 
ever attended, and it did not fail in good results. 
This meeting was held in a log carpenter shop, 
among the hills of Southwest Missouri, and was 
conducted by Eld. James R. Gish, whose wealth 
now goes on supplying our ministers with books 
from what is known as the Gish Fund. 

Just how he happened to come into our neighbor- 
hood I cannot say, but his preaching produced the 
turning point in my life, as well as in the lives of 
some others. With my parents I attended each 
night, and though I heard everything that was said, 
still there was but one thing that took hold of my 
mind, and it clings to me to this day. It was a 
simple point, and I present it here for the purpose 
of emphasizing the importance of lessons being 
made so simple that even children may understand 
them. 

Bro. Gish was discoursing on the importance of 
reading the Bible, in order to learn our duty direct- 



8 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

ly from the Book. He said many people refuse to 
read the Word of God, claiming that their memory 
is so poor that they can not keep in mind what they 
actually read. He said, To test this poor mem- 
ory business, just give one of these persons a little 
yellow-back book, and he will read it through, then 
go up the road to a neighbor and tell the contents 
of the book from start to finish. These are the kind 
of people, said Bro. Gish, who claim to have poor 
memories. They cannot remember what is in the 
Bible, but the contents of a little yellow book, that 
is of no particular value, they can remember just as 
well as anybody. 

To my young mind this was fine logic. So, on 
the way home that night, walking, the distance be- 
ing more than a mile, I wondered if I had any mem- 
ory. I had never read any part of the Bible ; in fact, 
I did not know one thing about Jesus, though I was 
in my twelfth year. The more I thought over 
the subject, the more anxious I became to read the 
Testament, — as we in those days called the New 
Testament, — for the purpose of testing my memory. 
Before reaching home I had resolved to read the 
little volume, if a copy of the book could be had. 

The next morning I managed to get hold of a 
small ten-cent Testament, which I secretly placed 
in my pocket and read during odd moments. Never 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 9 

before or since have I read a book with such intense 
interest. My work made it necessary for me to be 
in the woods from morning until night, and I did 
the most of my reading while seated on a log or a 
stump. Every spare moment found me with the 
little black book in my hand, only wishing that 
I could put in the whole day reading. 

Well, the story about the little, yellow-back book 
had done its work with me most thoroughly. It 
had set me to reading, and I soon understood my 
duty. A few months later I submitted to the wash- 
ing of regeneration. Bro. Gish went on with his 
preaching for nearly forty years, and never knew, 
until a few years before his death, that his simple 
story drove the truth home to at least one heart. 

I now mean to urge the importance of presenting 
the duty we owe to God in a striking manner. If 
thus presented it will fall into prepared soil, and be 
almost certain to grow. These simple incidents take 
hold upon the young minds, and may cling to them 
for years before moving them to obedience. Let 
this be as it may, but one thing is certain, ministers 
of the Gospel should not underrate the value of 
those points and illustrations calculated to arrest 
the attention of the young and start them in the 
right direction. In the presentation of the truth 
there is nothing so effective as forcible and clear 
illustrations. 



The Godly Minister. 

It was in the month of August, 1859, one Saturday 
evening, that we were all in a state of expectancy. 
The yard had been raked, the house had been put in 
trim, some extra baking had been done, and a cheer- 
ful look had taken possession of the whole family. 
We were looking for the preacher that evening. He 
lived twenty-five miles to the south, and did not 
come very often, but when he did come, he was 
given a welcome accorded few ministers in these 
days of business and bustle. 

I was then a lad thirteen years old, and our home, 
as stated, was in Missouri. A few days before I 
had told my mother that I wanted to be baptized 
when Uncle Billy came down the next time. That 
is what we all called him. His real name was Eld. 
Wm. Gish, and his home was some distance south of 
Stockton, the county seat of Cedar County. We 
all loved the old preacher most dearly, and never 
knew how to do enough for him,. He always rode 
on horseback, and we were as familiar with the 
name of his horse " Bally," as with the preacher 
himself. In fact to call out in childish delight, " Old 
Bally is coming ! " meant as much as to say, " Uncle 
Billy is coming." In those days, when preachers 
were few and much beloved, Bro. Gish was sure to 

10 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 11 

be greeted outside of the yard gate by the whole 
family, baby and all. Even the family dogs seemed 
to take in the situation and commence their doggish 
pranks. Usually old Bally was loaded up with chil- 
dren, taken to the well, given a good drink of the 
best water in the country and then assigned a com- 
fortable place in the log barn. 

That night a chapter from the Bible, a song from 
the little hymn book, and the prayer of the godly 
man prepared us for the sleep which only the happy 
and cheerful can enjoy. In my boyish way of look- 
ing at things I regarded Bro. Gish as the best man 
in the world. I often wished that I could be just as 
good as he was. In him I had the utmost confidence. 
I thought that everything he did was just right. I 
cannot now remember one thing he ever said, and 
yet I sat and listened to his preaching with the 
greatest of interest. I would have walked five miles 
any Sunday to hear him preach. 

The next morning, of course, was Sunday, and 
we were all up bright and early, so as to get ready 
in good time for meeting. Our meeting day was the 
best of the days. We never had any thought of miss- 
ing even one service. There were three of us to be 
baptized, myself being the youngest one. I dis- 
tinctly remember that in laying the order before the 
applicants one of the deacons said, "We will say 



12 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

nothing to John about the order in dress. We can 
explain that to him when he gets older." Well, dec- 
ades have come and gone, but that part of the visit 
has never been completed. 

The meeting was in a schoolhouse on a hill to the 
north. After meeting we went on a little further to 
the north, into the edge of St. Clair County, and 
there had prayer on the bank of one of nature's 
pools. The water had for centuries been plunging 
down over a huge rock shelf, and had scooped out 
a large basin, that was quite deep at the upper end. 
Into this pool, surrounded by trees, the applicants 
were led, and buried with Christ in the holy ordi- 
nance of Christian baptism. I came from the liquid 
grave fully resolved to live a new life in another 
kingdom. Since then the years have come and gone. 
My life became crowded with incidents, but in all 
of my wanderings I have never gotten entirely be- 
yond the influence of the godly man who assisted 
me to mount the steps and pass into the kingdom 
of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. I would that 
all the ambassadors of the cross could be respected 
and loved as was this earnest preacher, whose visits 
to my father's family were the most blessed occa- 
sions in my early life. 



Mush and Milk for Supper. 

Among the early settlers in this country there was 
doubtless more hospitality than there is at the pres- 
ent time, and it was probably more highly prized. 
Those given to the entertaining of strangers were 
generally spoken of in a complimentary manner. 
In the absence of hotels they were sought out by 
the traveler, and then recommended to the other 
travelers. In this way some families became widely 
known with the traveling public. 

There were those who prided themselves with the 
thought that they never turned a stranger from their 
door. My father was one of this class. At the time 
of which we now write he lived on a farm a short 
distance from an extensively-traveled road in the 
Southwest. Houses were then few, and some of 
them far apart. Every traveler who asked for lodg- 
ing got it, — such as we had in those days, when 
everybody in that part of the country was glad to 
be the proud owner of even a one-story log cabin, 
with a puncheon floor, clapboard roof and a large 
fireplace, where most of the cooking was done. In 
the lodging of strangers our experience was varied, 
sometimes interesting and now and then a little 
annoying. We now refer to an instance that has al- 
ways been pleasant to think about. 

13 



14 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

One evening a well-dressed traveler rode up to 
the fence, just in front of the door — we lived about 
three hundred yards from the road — and asked lodg- 
ing of my father. He was told that he could share 
the hospitality of the home if he thought he could 
put up with our simple way of living. This he said 
he could do with pleasure. He dismounted — nearly 
all travelers in those days made their way through 
the country on horseback — and his horse was placed 
in the log stable on the north side of the hill, while 
the traveler, with my father and us children, waited 
for supper in the sitting room, dining room and 
kitchen combined. 

For supper that evening my mother had prepared 
only mush and milk, the famous evening diet for 
that part of the West. When she learned that we 
were to entertain the stranger she immediately re- 
adjusted things at one end of the table. Here she 
placed her best china—such as it was — and a few 
choice articles of diet. The stranger witnessed the 
readjusting with considerable interest. When all 
things were ready he was invited to take his place 
at that part of the table where the china and spreads 
contrasted rather sharply with the crocks and plain 
dishes elsewhere. 

After my father had given thanks he told the 
stranger to " help himself." This was the usual 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 15 

western style of indicating the moment to com- 
mence eating. The gentleman nodded politely, at 
the same time keeping an eye on the rest of us who 
dipped into the common dish, took out plentiful sup- 
plies of mush, and placed the same in our bowls of 
cool, fresh milk. After watching the movements a 
few seconds he leaned back in his chair, looked 
straight at my mother and said: "Madam, what 
have I done that I cannot have some of this mush 
and milk too? " This brought out smiles all around 
the table. He was assured that there was plenty of 
it and was immediately supplied with a bowl and 
spoon, and was soon eating mush and milk like the 
rest of us. It was a pleasure to see that hungry 
traveler enjoying the best relished meal that he had 
probably eaten for months. To him it was some- 
thing unusual to sit in a rude log cabin, with a fam- 
ily of poor yet healthy and happy people, and share 
with them such simple articles of diet as they could 
afford. 

The evening was spent most pleasantly, for he 
proved to be a man of fine literary attainments. 
Little did he think that by coming down to our lev- 
el he was making on young hearts impressions that 
would be spoken of fifty years later. He went his 
way. His name has long since faded from my mem- 
ory, but his kind and manly conduct will never be 



16 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

forgotten. It is a pleasure to think of a stranger 
traveling over the country, and leaving behind him 
traces of kindness that will be fondly remembered 
long after he has gone to his grave. 

%2* fcT* fc5* 

A boy one time came to a minister and asked to 
be received into the church. Among other things 
he said that he wanted to be baptized. The minister 
questioned him very closely, for he thought the lad 
was quite young to be admitted to baptism. The 
boy, as older people look at religion, did not know 
much about the Scriptures, but finally said, " I 
think I know enough to begin with." Certainly, the 
minister thought, the boy knows enough to begin 
with. And who is it that does not know enough to 
begin doing right? He who knows enough to begin 
the new life should commence without delay, and 
advance in the ways of righteousness as more light 
is received. This is all the Lord asks of any person, 
and yet we may rest assured that this much is ex- 
pected of us. Why should it not be? Why should 
a man do less than he knows? If he knows to do 
good he should not hesitate to go to the limit of his 
knowledge. The great trouble with people is, they 
do not follow the light they have. 



My Big Book. 

When I was about twelve years old a book agent 
came to our home and had a long talk with my 
father. He had with him a large, well-bound book, 
in which he seemed very much interested. I did not 
listen to the conversation, nor can I say that I felt 
any concern about what was going on. I liked the 
appearance of the book, but the thought of attempt- 
ing to read so large a work never entered my mind. 

At any rate, the agent went away, but left the 
book. He, of course, carried some of my father's 
money with him. Of this I thought a little strange, 
for my father impressed me as a man who was ex- 
ceedingly careful about his expenditures. A few 
days later I heard him tell mother that the book 
agent had pulled the wool over his eyes. 

For months the black book, as we called it, lay 
around the house, but no one seemed interested in 
what it contained. In the front were a few pictures 
that attracted my attention, but aside from these 
pictures I gave the book no thought whatever. A 
few months before I had, for the first time, read a 
part of the New Testament through, One day I told 
my father that I wished I could read something 
about Jerusalem. He told me there was something 
about Jerusalem in the book he got of that agent. 

17 



18 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

The place was found, and I read the account with 
intense interest. 

This led me to leafing throught the book and I 
happened onto the part about the Revolutionary 
War. This was the first I knew about such a war, 
and I do not know that I ever traced the lines of 
history with such eagerness. It made me hungry for 
history, and I read and reread the long chapter. 
Looking through the book I found a splendid sketch 
of Washington, then another of Columbus and the 
discovery of America. All of this was to me like 
a revelation. 

But I soon caught onto the fact that the contents 
were arranged in alphabetical order, and that I 
could find something on any point in history that I 
could think of. With this discovery I was elated. 
The book proved to be F. A. Durivage's " Popular 
Encyclopedia of History, Ancient and Modern." 
It was in fine print, two columns, and contained 750 
large pages. 

I put in every spare moment on the book. To me it 
was a regular mine of information. Every day 
brought something new to my attention. It was the 
only book I had to read, and, in fact, I did not feel 
that I needed anything else. A few years later, when 
it became necessary for us to leave our Missouri 
home, to escape the ravages of war, and only a few 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 19 

things could be taken in the wagon, I managed to 
find a place for my big book. I walked over two 
hundred miles barefooted, had no shoes and only 
scant clothing, but I could not think of leaving my 
book behind. 

After reaching the land of safety, and though we 
had to struggle hard for a living, I did not neglect 
my history. In fact I was about sixteen years old 
before I had the privilege of reading any other 
work. I went to my book for everything that I 
wanted to know along historical lines. Here I read 
the history of the different nations of earth, read 
about the leading men of every generation, - and 
about the occurrences in general that had taken 
place, so that I easily became one of the best-read 
boys in history in the neighborhood. When it came 
to history I was always ready for a talk, and when 
occasion demanded it, I would argue with most any 
person that tackled me. 

I have been glad, hundreds of times, that the un- 
known book agent pulled the wool over my father's 
eyes, and induced him to purchase the book, that re- 
mained my constant companion for years. The fall- 
ing of this book into my hands was the most fortu- 
nate thing that could have happened to me. It came 
to me at a time when I could not attend school, and 
when I had nothing else to read. True, for a boy 



20 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

it was heavy reading, but in the absence of school- 
ing it was just what I needed for the training of 
the mind. It laid for me a good historical founda- 
tion, and on this foundation I continued to build all 
the years of my busy and active life. To me this 
book agent was an angel in disguise. He went his 
way : we never saw him again, but I certainly would 
like to have told him the story of at least one book 
that he sold to an unwilling purchaser. 



The Grand Old Man. 

The breaking out of the war in 1861 found me a 
boy with my parents on a farm, sixteen miles south 
of Osceola, Mo. We had witnessed the passing of 
large armies, had seen the contending forces on the 
way to meet each other in deadly conflict, had heard 
the distant rumbling of artillery, and fully realized 
that our whole State would soon be exposed to the 
ravages of war. Siegel had fought his battle at 
Carthage. Gen. Lyon had been killed at Springfield, 
and his proud army, which passed our farm on its 
way to the field of battle, had been defeated. Bands 
of Confederates took possession of the country, and 
we felt that we were no longer safe in our home- 
land. 

The hasty loading of a few necessities in a two- 
horse wagon, locking the doors of a well-furnished 
house, leaving our cattle in the large, wooded pas- 
ture, leaving hundreds of bushels of grain in the 
stacks, and a night departure from the place that 
had to us for five years been " home, sweet home," 
made up a scene in my early experience never to be 
erased from memory. There were eight of us, father, 
mother, brothers and sisters. The next morning we 
were joined by two- other families, our purpose be- 
ing to make our way, if possible, north, and reach 

21 



22 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

Illinois, which we regarded as the land of safety. 

It was a long, dusty trip in the hot month of 
August. As three of our family were sick at the 
time, no room could be spared for me in the wagon, 
so I walked practically the entire distance. We 
finally reached Adams County, 111., almost destitute, 
and located among the Brethren near Liberty. The 
suffering endured on this trip and the hardships of 
the winter that followed need not be told, but they 
were the most bitter experiences of my life. 

It was here that I met Eld. George Wolf, then 
over eighty years old. It was my good fortune to be 
in his presence a great deal, and I spent many an 
hour listening to him expound the Scriptures, or 
narrating some interesting incident connected with 
his former life. I never grew tired of his interesting 
narratives, for he settled in Illinois long before it be- 
came a State, and probably knew more about the 
hardships and experiences of the pioneer life than 
any man in the State. 

The good old man lived in the rear end of the 
farmhouse occupied by his son David, who was also 
a well-informed minister, and a man of much in- 
fluence and enterprise. The building was large, neat 
and commodious. At the rear stood a well-preserved 
log house, onto which the main building was joined, 
which, I presume, had been built by Eld. George 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 23 

Wolf in an early day, at least it was many years his 
home. For his exclusive use he had one large, com- 
fortable room provided with a good fireplace, in 
which he always kept a brilliant fire in cool weather, 
and on damp days. His wife had preceded him to 
the other world, so he spent much of his time alone. 
Many times have I stepped to the half open door 
to get a glimpse of the venerable old man, as he sat 
in his old arm-chair gazing steadily at the fire. He 
seemed as one waiting for the boatman to come and 
bear him away to the other shore. Here he sat, day 
after day, thinking as only aged people can think 
and meditate. His eyes were too dim to read much, 
and he was too heavy and feeble to travel with com- 
fort. 

In appearance Eld. Wolf had something about 
him that marked him as a man far above the ordi- 
nary. He stood over six feet in height, had broad 
shoulders, and weighed more than two hundred 
pounds. His head was very large, forehead lofty and 
gently retreating, eyebrows greatly arched, and be- 
neath were large, piercing eyes, that never failed to 
attract attention. He was a man that would have 
commanded attention in any company. He was one 
of nature's great men, eminently qualified for the 
widest range of thought, and seemed to be a born 
leader of men. As a thinker he had few equals; as 



24 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

an expounder he would command almost universal 
respect, and impress one with his superior, yet un- 
assuming greatness. His very presence, and manner 
of address, inspired an audience with confidence. In 
the community where he lived, his name and good 
deeds will never be forgotten. His life and adven- 
tures, if carefully written, would make one of the 
most interesting biographies ever published. 

To be with the grand old man, to listen to him 
talk by the hour, to hear him deliver an occasional 
address, and to be inspired and impressed by his 
marvelous personality was the most fortunate period 
of my life. He impressed me as the first great 
thinker I ever met. When I consider the hardships 
endured in trying to reach the North, and the losses 
suffered because of the war, I count all these as 
nothing compared with what I gained by being 
thrown in company, at an early age, with one of 
the most gifted thinkers, and the most profound 
reasoners that it has ever been my good fortune to 
meet. 

I cannot get away from the thought that the hand 
of God was in all these experiences. I have been a 
busy man. I have mingled with public men the 
greater part of my life, but the sight of that good 
old man still remains with me as I saw him seated 
in his large arm-chair, gazing into the fire that 
burned in his old-fashioned fireplace. 



The Copper Kettle. 

When I was about seventeen years old, my par- 
ents moved onto a farm in Adams County, this State, 
located about fifteen miles from where the main 
body of the Brethren lived. In course of time, ar- 
rangements were made to have preaching at a 
schoolhouse in our neighborhood, every eight 
weeks. The appointments were usually filled by 
Bro. David Wolf, son of Eld. Geo. Wolf, or Bro. 
Wm. Lirely. Both were good preachers, and usually 
drew large congregations. 

In the fall, when the apples began to ripen, my 
parents, Virginia-like, concluded that we ought to 
make some apple-butter, hence made inquiry for a 
copper kettle, but none was to be found, as the peo- 
ple in that part of the country knew nothing about 
making apple-butter. Our meeting-day came, — we 
all attended of course, — and Bro. David Wolf 
preached. After meeting, one of the neighbors told 
my father that there was a Pennsylvanian living 
among the hills, about ten miles to the south, who 
had a large copper kettle that might possibly be had 
if he would send for it. 

Early on Monday morning I was started out 
with a team, in search of the copper kettle. The 
route was not only rough, but difficult to follow. 

25 



26 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

Finally I drove up to the well-improved little farm 
that had been pointed out as the place where the 
Pennsylvanian lived. Walking into the neatly-kept 
yard, I met a pleasant-looking gentleman, and asked 

if his name was . He replied in the affirmative. 

I then told him where I lived, and what I had come 
for, assuring him we would take good care of the 
kettle, and pay him for the use of it. He said that 
he had a large copper kettle, but would neither 
lend nor hire it out, as such a vessel cost a good deal, 
and was very easily spoiled. He stated that his had 
been injured a time or two, and he had concluded 
not to let it go any more. 

Feeling the disappointment keenly, I apologized 
as best I could for troubling him, at the same time 
telling him that while at meeting the day before, 
one of our neighbors had told my father of the ket- 
tle, and that was the way we came to know of it. 
He asked me where we attended meeting. I told 
him at the Bush schoolhouse, three miles east of 
Pay son. "Who preached? " says he. I answered, 
" David Wolf." " To what church does he belong? " 
he eagerly inquired. " The Dunkard church," says I. 
" Is your father a member of the Dunkard church?" 
he asked. I told him he was. "All right," says he, 
" he can have the kettle, and is perfectly welcome to 
it. I used to know these fine people back in 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 27 

Pennsylvania, where I came from, and they were al- 
ways honest, and would take good care of things." 
I was soon on my way home with the large copper 
kettle in the wagon, feeling wonderfully elated over 
the result of my trip. 

On reaching home I told the whole story to my 
parents, and they felt not only a little proud of the 
good name the church had, but showed a decided 
appreciation for the way I had approached the 
Pennsylvanian and obtained the use of his kettle. 
The reader may rest assured that my parents did 
their best to preserve the good name of the Breth- 
ren church, and the kettle was returned in fine con- 
dition, with a sample of the kind of apple-butter 
we knew how to make. 

It is encouraging to note what a good impression 
honesty and uprightness had made on the mind of 
the man, who had moved from Pennsylvania twenty 
years before. He had not forgotten the Brethren 
and their honesty. That is the kind of a religion 
that takes with thinking people. The borrowing of 
a copper kettle was a small affair, yet it brought to 
light the effects of honest living upon the part of 
others. That man had confidence in the very name 
" Dunkard." He thought that every one who be- 
longed to the church was all right, and could be 
trusted. We trust he never had occasion to change 
his opinion. 



Master of the Situation. 

In early life I met a successful farmer, who said 
he made it a rule to push his work, but never per- 
mitted his work to push him. In other words, he 
controlled his work instead of his work controlling 
him. He planned and then executed, laying out for 
each day that which he proposed to accomplish. 
The man always had plenty to do, and yet he was 
never rushed to death, as we say of some men. 
There were times when he rushed his work, but he 
remained every day and every hour master of the 
situation. 

He succeeded, for men of this kind always suc- 
ceed. He had learned to think, to plan, and to 
systematize. He had a system that was his own, 
and suited the work in which he was engaged. Be- 
fore he rose in the morning he knew just what he 
had planned to do, should the weather prove favor- 
able* If the weather did not permit him to> carry 
out his plans, he had something else in mind that 
needed attention. People in the neighborhood used 
to wonder how this man happened to get along with 
his work so well. It never occurred to most of 
them that he planned carefully and then worked 
up to his plans. 

Other people besides the farmers need to plan. 

2$ 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 29 

The woman in the house should plan. Before re- 
tiring she may know what is to be done the next 
day. True, she may have so much to do that she 
hardly knows where to begin, but she does not need 
to do everything in one day. That needing first 
attention should be done first, and the other things 
will fall in place, provided there is good planning 
and the woman becomes master of the situation in- 
stead of the situation mastering her. People who 
plan and push their work usually have time to rest 
and gather strength for further duties, but those 
who permit their work to crowd them, so they can 
never think long enough to plan, are certain to be 
constantly overworked. 

The Christian should plan to do this, that, and 
the other good thing, and then plan to refuse to do 
some other things not in keeping with his profes- 
sion. He should plan for Sunday services, as well 
as for the midweek prayer meeting. He should plan 
for the Sunday school as surely as he should look 
ahead and be ready to attend the members' meeting 
when the day comes. He should not wait until the 
morning of the love feast to make up his mind 
whether he is to attend, and what time he proposes 
to start. All of this should be settled days before, 
and everything arranged for the occasion. In fact, 



30 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

he should make it a business to get everything ready 
for the feast. 

The preacher must plan. He knows when he is 
expected to deliver his message, and he should not 
only get his subject matter ready for his discourse, 
but he must get himself ready. He wants to be in 
a condition to do his best for the God he serves, 
and for the people he is to instruct. When the hour 
comes for his service, let him be on hand with his 
hymns and his message. He does not want to 
appear before his congregation with an apology. 
God does not send men to make apologies, but to 
preach the Gospel. 

Everybody should cultivate the habit of planning. 
The student in school can accomplish more by plan- 
ning well, and then working his plans. It may be 
well to set the time to retire and the time to rise. 
Whether in school or out of school, we should plan 
for the amount and kind of reading to be done. 
Men and women in every walk of life should plan. 
It will make them more systematic, as well as more 
efficient, and pave the way to success. 

One should plan for his manner of life, morally, 
mentally and physically. There are things in which 
no man or woman should ever indulge. People 
should lay plans for meeting and overcoming temp- 
tations, should they ever come their way. Men 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 31 

should lay their life plans for avoiding intoxicants 
and the gamblers' table. All parties will do well 
thoroughly to set themselves against card playing 
and theater going. There are scores of other things 
in life that should be shunned by men and women 
who wish to avoid making wrecks of themselves, 
but they are never certain of the victory without 
some well-laid plans that they purpose to live by, 
and work up to, and with such plans any man or 
woman may become complete master of the situa- 
tion. 



Seeing an Editor. 

When a boy, twelve years old, and living in 
Southwestern Missouri, I had the privilege of seeing 
my first editor. The country was then new, con- 
veniences few and the neighbors all poor, but very 
kind. A log schoolhouse, out in the woods, about 
two miles away, and presided over by one who had 
some knowledge of the famous three Rs, was the 
seat of learning for the rising generation occupying 
a territory nearly if not quite five miles square. 
To attend this institution of learning three months 
out of twelve was regarded as a rare privilege in 
those pioneer days. 

We had but few meetings ; Sunday Schools were 
unknown and a newspaper, now and then, was most 
highly prized. Its contents were read from end to 
end, and commented on for weeks. But there final- 
ly came into the neighborhood a man, who was well 
dressed, and rode a pony that could outwalk any- 
thing on the road. The man was from Arkansas, 
so it was reported, and was actually the editor of a 
paper. I had traveled some, going first from Virginia 
to Illinois, then to Missouri, and thought I had seen 
a few things, but never before in my life had I 
seen a living, moving editor. I eyed him from head 
to foot, studied his ways, noticed how he walked, 

32 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 33 

talked and rode. I studied his face, looked into his 
keen, dark eyes, took special note of his black hair, 
and finally settled down to the conclusion that he 
must be a very " smart " man because he had a high 
forehead. Never before or since have I studied a 
man as I studied that editor. 

I believed him to be a man of rare information, 
and in my boyish way of looking at him, I thought 
he must have all knowledge at his command. And 
then the idea that I had seen an editor, and that 
he had actually been at our house and talked with 
my father and mother ! To see and experience such 
a thing was to me the opportunity of a lifetime. 
And then to think that the tall man, who wore good 
clothes and rode that nice pony, was " smart " 
enough to edit a paper! I wondered how much he 
had to know to write what we in those days saw 
in print. I thought he had to know the meaning of 
all the words, know how to spell every one of them, 
and know just where each one should fit in to make 
good sense. I thought that he not only had to 
write everything in his paper, but that he had to 
set the type too, and print the paper besides. Sure- 
ly he must be a great man. So I thought and so 
I reasoned. 

How commonplace are such observations and 
thoughts in this enlightened part of the country! 



34 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

But not so then. From the contemplation of that 
editor I got more real enjoyable thinking than I 
could get today from the reading of the best book 
printed. And now, after years of reading and writ- 
ing and experiences in some of the different walks 
of life, I almost envy the boy who can yet spend 
weeks studying the new and simple things that for 
the first time engage his attention. Nor have I a 
word of censure or reproof for the boy or girl who 
becomes intensely interested in the things that may 
seem foolish to the well-informed. I know that they 
are getting an amazing amount of good out of their 
simple discoveries and observations, and however 
simple may be the questions that they ask me I 
feel disposed to give them the most civil answer at 
my command. I have no snubs for the child that 
asks simple and even foolish questions. I have not 
forgotten the many happy hours I whiled away, 
when a boy, contemplating some of the ordinary 
things of life* 



Turning from the Wrong, 

In the early part of my ministry it fell to my lot 
to do considerable preaching in a locality where the 
Brethren were very little known. In time several 
applied for membership, and were baptized. 
Among them were a man and wife of good standing 
in the community. They not only united with the 
church, but they left the world. Everybody could 
see that they were converted. They did not have 
to tell people that they were Christians. Their 
lives told the story, and told it well. To preach to 
the people in that neighborhood was simply a de- 
light. It was like cultivating corn in a productive 
soil. One could see the seed of the kingdom grow. 

Possibly a year later the brother came to me and 
said that he and his wife had been at a very world- 
ly Fourth of July celebration. In that part of the 
country the people did not come together to wor- 
ship God on the Fourth, but merely for amusement, 
and the amusement in which they engaged was by 
no means of the innocent class. Well, the brother 
told the whole story, how he and his wife happened 
to get there, and how they happened to find them- 
selves looking at the dancing on the dancing floor. 
Finally the wife said, " I believe this is no place 
for Christians, Let us go home." The brother 

35 



36 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

thought the same way, though the wife spoke first. 

But they went home, and after thinking the mat- 
ter all over, the brother decided to ask me what I 
thought about it, whether I thought they had done 
wrong. I told him that in my judgment they had 
done just right, — not by attending the place of 
amusement, but by going home. I then added, 
that if they would always do that way when they 
got into places where Christians had no business 
they would greatly please the Lord. I did not tell 
them to come to the church and make a public con- 
fession, but I did tell some of the other members 
what advice I had given. 

That lesson has been useful to me in more ways 
than one. The importance of turning my back on 
places unbecoming Christians was forcibly im- 
pressed upon my mind. And really, that is the 
very essence of vital piety. When one gets into a 
place where saints have no business, what better 
thing can he do than to get out of it of his own free 
will? And then, when one of his own free will does 
correct a wrong, why not let the matter rest? 

I know that some people think that all matters of 
this kind should be made right before the church. 
Of course some of them may be of such a public 
and aggravated character that they should be thus 
disposed of, but it will be wise to make a reasonable 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 37 

discrimination. I have sometimes urged members 
to come before the church of their own accord and 
tell the members just what they had done. But 
when it was evident that they had done the right 
thing in correcting their own mistakes I did not care 
to force a public confession from them. 

I want to impress on the mind of each reader that 
a public, forced confession for a little mistake is not 
always the best thing to demand. This, of course, 
does not apply to aggravated cases. But when we 
see that a weak member is doing all he can to 
amend his ways, or to correct his unintentional 
mistakes, why not encourage him? That would be 
Christianlike. In fact that is the course that love 
would dictate. 

In exacting public confessions for mistakes of the 
character mentioned— if they can be called mistakes 
— we may go just far enough to discourage some of 
those who are weak. If they are strong enough to 
turn away from sin, and then seek the ways of right, 
the turning ought to be regarded as a sufficient con- 
fession. True, with the tongue confession should 
be made, but ofttimes the turning of the whole 
body and life from an unintentional wrong' speaks 
much louder than it is possible for words to speak. 
I would not give one voluntary turning away from 
error for all the forced confessions ever made. In 



38 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

fact I can hardly make myself believe that any 
good can result from a forced confession, but I do 
know that there is virtue in a voluntary departure 
from sin. 

^W ^W C7» 

Little sins become great sins because of the great 
evil they make possible. To think about an evil deed 
may by some be reckoned as harmless, and yet, if it 
were not for the evil thinking, the evil deed would 
never take place. The man at the crossroads may 
sometimes think about taking the life of his neighr 
bor on the next corner, but thinking, we say, 
amounts to nothing if it goes no farther. But it 
goes farther and the whole neighborhood is thrown 
into a state of excitement because one man, in the 
prime of life, has to be buried and another has to be 
hung. All of this comes from a little evil thinking. 
But the evil thinking is not little. It is great. It has 
become a tremendous sin on account of the terrible 
crime committed. And so it may be said of other 
sins. They may seem small, and yet great issues 
hang on them,. The minute hand of a watch is a small 
affair, and yet, because it fell back a few minutes, 
many a train has been wrecked, and hundreds of 
lives have been lost. 



Calling on Busy People. 

While engaged in editorial work in Mount Morris, 
111., a student one time came into my office and said : 
"Have you time to talk a little?" " Yes," I re- 
plied, " I have time to talk, but no time to wait." 
He understood the meaning, took a seat, and said 
what he had to say. He did not stop to think about 
something else, in order to prolong the conversation. 
He had his points well in mind, and was not slow 
about presenting them. No time was lost in this 
interview, and when we were through with the sub- 
ject in hand, he went on about his business, and 
I resumed my work at the desk, feeling all the 
while like seeking an opportunity to commend the 
young man for his good sense. I was full of busi- 
ness that day, had little time to spare, but was real- 
ly helped by the short call. 

At the College was another young man who fre- 
quently called on me. When he entered the room 
he walked straight up to my desk, hat in hand, and 
told his story at once. Sometimes we talked two 
minutes, at others five and, probably a time or two, 
he took ten minutes of my time. But when he was 
through he knew it, and took his departure as 
quickly as he came. I never felt that time was 
wasted by talking to that class of people. 

39 



40 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

Then, on the other hand, I have had persons 
come to my desk, who did not seem to know what 
they wanted. They wanted to talk, but had noth- 
ing special in their mind to talk about. Their main 
purpose seemed to be to while away an hour or 
two. 

Well, while it is our duty to be courteous to 
people of this class, still, how much better it would 
be if they could cultivate different habits and learn 
the value of brevity when calling on busy people. 
It takes some people a long while to learn this les- 
son, but it is a lesson that every young man and 
young woman should master. 

But we have never been greatly annoyed in this 
way, and have little reason for complaining, still 
we happen to know of instances when busy people 
were greatly annoyed by these careless callers. 
We have known them to call on professors of lit- 
erary institutions, and detain them from their work 
for hours. It would have been a great deal better 
to make a short call, talk over the matter in hand, 
and then withdraw. 

We call attention to an annoyance that deserves 
more than a passing notice. It may be Sunday 
morning. The minister is getting ready to preach. 
He is preparing his subject as well as himself. He 
has a message for his congregation, and is getting 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 41 

matters in shape to do his best in the Lord's work. 
Some one calls. It is not quite meeting time, and he 
wants to have a little talk with the minister. It may 
be about some trouble. The talk lengthens out; 
the hour for church comes, and the preacher must 
go before his congregation unprepared to deliver 
his message. He enters the pulpit, feeling that he 
cannot do justice to the Master's cause. However, 
he must make the attempt. The time must be oc- 
cupied, and though he may not reach the hearts of 
the people, still custom demands that he go on to 
the end of the service. He returns home after 
preaching, feeling deep down in his troubled heart 
that his well-meant efforts have proved a failure, 
all because some one did not think. 

A busy wife and mother goes from room to room 
in the performance of her household duties. 
Breakfast is over, the children have been started 
off to school, and she is doing her utmost to 
straighten up things, and have dinner ready when 
the children come home from school and when the 
husband comes from the shop or fieldo She has 
planned well. She can complete her many tasks 
and still secure a little rest on the lounge or in the 
comfortable rocking-chair. 

But at eleven here comes Mrs. B. She lives just 
across the street, has few cares and means to call 



42 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

just a minute. Thirty minutes are consumed, and 
this throws the good housewife all out of tune for 
preparing and enjoying the dinner with her family. 
The husband sees that something is wrong and so 
do the children. The dinner is eaten, but not en- 
joyed. Everything is late, the children must run to 
reach the schoolroom before the last bell rings and 
the husband too has to make great haste so he will 
not be late at his work. 

The mother and wife is left alone again, tired, sad 
and discouraged. All the afternoon the work drags, 
and she begins to wish that her life might have 
been different. When, late in the night, she goes to 
her room she feels in her troubled heart that the 
day has been no blessing to her, and she wonders 
how long life will thus continue. If people would 
only think! But some of them do not, and what 
cannot be cured may have to be endured. 



Seeking Advice. 

When I located in the orange belt of Florida, in 
the eighties, I felt the need of some reliable infor- 
mation about orange culture. It was important that 
I should know what kind of trees to plant, when 
and how to plant them, and how to cultivate my 
grove. There were plenty of men to give free ad- 
vice, and as a rule each one had some ideas wholly 
different from all the rest. I noticed that those who 
could do the most talking, and seemed to know 
more than anybody else, were only recently from 
the North. 

All through life it had been my rule, when seek- 
ing information, to go to those who had made a 
success of the business about which I wished to 
make inquiry. While I appreciated the kindness of 
the recent comers from the North, in their desire 
to inform me concerning the best way to raise an 
orange grove, I did not prize their knowledge very 
highly. So I drove out in the woods, seven miles, 
and interviewed a kind old gentleman who had lived 
in that part of the State for thirty years, and was 
then making money out of his fine orange grove. I 
saw that he was making a success of his business, 
and thought he would be the man from whom to 
secure information that could be relied upon. I 

43 



44 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

whiled away many a pleasant and profitable hour 
from year to year in his grove and society. 

This leads me to say that there is nothing like ex- 
perience when it comes to giving information and 
advice that is of value. In my younger days, before 
I had any family of my own, I used to preach on 
how to raise a family. I had some fine theories, and 
had my earnest way of presenting them. I felt con- 
fident that my theories were correct, and thought 
it my duty to enlighten others, but I had no ex- 
perience to relate. Well, years have gone by. I 
have raised a family of my own, and now I have 
considerable experience but no more theories. I 
do not do as much preaching along that line as I 
did when I knew less about it. I think that I have 
learned that two decades of experience in raising a 
family is worth a half dozen volumes of theories. 
Had your young minister gone to some father who 
had made a success of raising a family, for infor- 
mation, before delivering his sermons on the sub- 
ject, he might have said something that would have 
been of special value to his hearers. 

But how common it is for ministers, who have no 
children of their own, to tell other people how to 
raise their children! Some who have never raised 
even one child can preach by the hour on family 
government and kindred subjects. They have 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 45 

theories almost without number, and had they time 
they would like to write a book on a subject about 
which they know practically nothing. 

Before Harriet Beecher Stowe became the moth- 
er of any children she wrote a most charming book 
on child training. The work had a large sale, and 
was widely read in all parts of the country. It gave 
the author quite a reputation as a writer along that 
particular line. One time Mrs. Stowe met a lady 
who had considerable difficulty in keeping her child 
quiet while waiting in the depot for her train. Mrs. 
Stowe was kind enough to tell the lady that if she 
would read her book on child culture it would prove 
very helpful to her in keeping her child quiet under 
such circumstances, and received this surprising an- 
swer from the tired mother : " Whenever you have 
some children of your own, then you may know how 
to- write a book." 

I do not mean to say that preachers who have no 
children of their own, and have never had any ex- 
perience in raising a family, should not preach on 
the subject of raising a Christian family, but they 
should bear in mind that a few words from men of 
experience along such lines are worth an hour spent 
in parading empty theories. Whenever I listen to a 
long sermon or essay on child training, or how to 
raise a family, by one who has never had any ex- 
perience whatever, I cannot help thinking about the 
answer given to Mrs. Stowe in the depot. 



A Mistake in Marriage. 

I once knew a family of very devout people, 
especially noted for their education, culture and 
standing in society. They had an only daughter, 
who, because of her brilliant mind and rare accom- 
plishments, was the idol of her parents and the pride 
of the community. Everything in the power of the 
parents was done to give the daughter a finished 
education and fit her for rare usefulness in the 
world. Nor was her religious and moral train- 
ing neglected in the least, especially on the part of 
the mother, who was a model in religious circles. 

The young woman moved in the best of society. 
Among the young men of the community, and some 
of them were of the highest type, she could have 
taken her choice. But, strange to say, her heart was 
in some manner won by a young man far below her 
in education, refinement and society. Her father 
pleaded and her mother wept, but all to no avail. 
Even her friends remonstrated, yet the young wom- 
an refused to listen to any one save the young man 
who had asked her hand in marriage. 

The day came for the wedding. Hands were 
joined, a few words were said, a prayer was offered 
and the two hearts were one in the face of prayers 
and pleadings of loving parents and true friends. 

46 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 47 

When the mother saw all was over, then, in deep 
anguish, after years of hard work and great anxiety 
in bringing up her daughter, and after spending 
hundreds of dollars in educating her, she was heard 
to say : " Surely, considering all the worry and toil, 
it does not pay to raise girls." 

Few mothers have ever felt disappointed more 
keenly. She almost felt that her love had been out- 
raged, and the more she pondered over the situation, 
the more did she feel in her own heart that her 
daughter had made a mistake. But she had done 
what she could to prevent the mistake, and so her 
conscience was clear. 

The father and mother talked the situation over. 
They could not get away from the thought that their 
child had made a mistake and some day she would 
see it, but they were sensible people and decided 
that she was their daughter still, and that their home 
should be her home whenever she chose to spend a 
day or even an hour under their roof. They were 
too sensible to remind the young wife of her mistake 
after it was too late. They were too noble of heart 
to close the door on a daughter because she had, 
in this instance, gone contrary to their wishes. 

They reasoned that her mistake would make life 
sad enough, and that they would not make the situ- 
ation still more unpleasant for her by heaping upon 



48 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

her the indignation that they felt in their hearts. 
They continued to treat her kindly, and did all they 
knew to make life's path as pleasant as possible. 

Years have passed over the heads of those people, 
but during all this time the daughter has never been 
humiliated by the thought that her pious, intelligent 
and well-meaning parents look down on her. Surely 
she might have done better, and possibly has at 
times thought so, but her parents are not disturb- 
ing her by reminding her of the warning they gave. 
With them the past is buried and they are helping 
to make the future bright. 

But how many parents have made it unpleasant 
for a son or a daughter for marrying against their 
wishes? Some have become so enraged that they 
have actually locked the home door against their 
own children. It is sad enough for a daughter to 
make a mistake in marriage, let alone to be constant- 
ly reminded of it by the ill treatment of her father 
and mother. 

It is wise in parents to encourage their children 
to> keep only the best of company, so they may have 
the best from which to select a companion. They are 
not to be censured for becoming deeply concerned 
about the selection made ; and, while it may be con- 
sidered unwise for parents to choose companions for 
their sons and daughters, still they are acting with- 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 49 

in the bounds of their privileges when they do their 
utmost to prevent them from making mistakes. Yet 
when the choice is once made, and the ceremony is 
over, there being no opportunity to correct the mis- 
take if one has been made, it shows a great lack of 
wisdom in parents for them to be constantly remind- 
ing the daughter and her husband of their disap- 
proval. After the two have become one, let the past 
be buried. 



In the Woods of Florida. 

It was on a Saturday in the early winter of 1878. 
I was then living in Putnam County, Florida, on 
the south bank of a charming lake, known as Lake 
Keuka. I was at work in my orange grove when ap- 
proached by a stranger. I perceived by his rapid 
walk, and business-like way of approaching me that 
he was not only a Northern man, but that he was 
in haste. 

After being assured of my name, he wished to 
know if I was a "Dunkard " minister. I told him I 
was. He then stated his mission, saying that he 
was from Bears Mills, north of Gainesville, that a 
lady, a member of our church, had died, and the 
friends wished me to come to the place and conduct 
the funeral services. 

I had visited Gainesville a few times, about thirty 
miles to the west, had frequently heard of Bears 
Mills, but had never been in that immediate vicinity, 
or met any of the men connected with the mills. 
To reach Gainesville by train that evening, it would 
be necessary for me to get ready and go with the 
gentleman at once. In due time I was at the Keuka 
depot, one-half mile from my home, and together 
we started on the late afternoon train,— the last 
train for that week. 

5a 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 51 

Gainesville was reached about sundown, Supper 
was eaten at the hotel and the stranger was ready 
with his buggy for a drive of eight or ten miles 
through the lone woods of Florida. The route lay 
through tall timber the entire distance, and, after 
leaving the vicinity of Gainesville, not a house or 
light was to be seen. The night was dark, and the 
dense timber, on either side of the narrow road, 
made the situation anything but pleasant to con- 
template, 

Here I was, with a stranger in a great timber belt, 
and not a settler, black or white, in hearing distance. 
Often I could not see the road or the horse, and at 
times not even the driver. By looking up I got an 
occasional glimpse of the stars and could, now and 
then, see the light of the sky through the branches 
of the great pines. For miles everything was still. 
Not a sound could be heard aside from that pro- 
duced by our conveyance, and the rustling of the 
wind among the leaves. Not a human being was 
met. In a sense it reminded one of passing through 
the valley and shadow of death. I made the trip 
by faith and not by sight. I trusted everything to 
my driver and his faithful animal. 

Finally we reached an opening and I saw a dozen 
lights at the different mill shanties that had been 
erected around the mills for the workmen. I was 



52 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

received at a large building, all recently constructed 
of new pine lumber, was ushered into a large open 1 
hall, after Southern style, then into a large, well- 
lighted and well-furnished living room, where I 
was most kindly greeted by several men and women, 
who seemed to regard me as a most welcome vis- 
itor from a distant and friendly land. I never before 
or since met a group of strangers where our natures 
seemed to blend so quickly. 

We were soon engaged in conversation. Those 
in the house gathered close around me, and it seemed 
almost like close friendship from the start. The 
people told me that they were from the neighbor- 
hood of Nappanee, Ind., that they knew the Breth- 
ren well, had come into the great timber belt of 
Florida to engage in the milling business, and that 
in their number was a widow, with two boys, and 
that the woman had taken sick and died. They had 
heard of me while in the North, knew of my locat- 
ing at Keuka, and had sent for me to come and help 
bury their neighbor, for she was a member of the 
Brethren church, they said, and a good woman. 

The mills were about one mile from a settlement 
of well-to-do Southern people. In their community 
the services were held. Nearly all the mill people 
attended the funeral, and the Southern people came 
for miles. The audience was a large one, made up 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 53 

of a good class of people from the North and South. 
The incidents leading up to the funeral had deeply 
impressed me, and prepared me for the occasion. 
The situation was unique and that put me at my 
best. I made use of the opportunity, told the story 
of the woman and her sad death, far away from her 
Northern kindred and her church. I told the story 
of her church, her religion, her hope of the great 
future, and then dwelt on the certainty, the impor- 
tance and the nature of the future life. In all my 
experience in the ministry I never had closer atten- 
tion. To most of the people, and especially the 
southern people, the story was out of the usual, 
and then, being delivered in the very shadow of 
death, made the services only the more impressive. 

We laid the good woman to rest, in a lonely grave, 
in the genial clime, beneath the Southern sun, in a 
land of almost perpetual summer, where snows sel- 
dom come and where the long summer is given. 
I felt sorry for the children that were left without 
a mother. I could do no more than pray for them 
and commit them to the care of the great Father. 

I came away from the place, and never had an op- 
portunity of returning. I have thought of the inci- 
dent, as it relates to a part of my experience, a 
hundred times. I have thought of the lonely grave 
beneath the Southern sky, the orphan children and 



54 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

the people I met. In my funeral address I aimed to 
sow much gospel seed, as well as to comfort the 
people. I have often wondered about the seed that 
was sown on that occasion. Did any of it fall into 
good ground and grow, or did all of it fall by the 
wayside? I am wondering, What will the harvest 
be, or will there be any harvest from that sowing? 



A Man of One Talent. 

Early in my ministerial experience I knew a 
young man whom I could not fully understand. 
Before reaching the age of twenty he made the good 
confession and was received into the church. He 
seldom missed the church services, and was always 
a good listener. I never knew him to miss a mem- 
bers' meeting when it was possible for him to be 
present. I do not recall a word he ever said, in 
any gathering he attended, nor can I remember that 
he ever did anything to help along the work of the 
church. He behaved himself on week days and 
Sundays, but that is all there could be said of him. 
He was simply good, but not active. Finally I 
set him down in my own mind as a man of one 
talent, and could not, therefore, expect much of 
him. Then I wondered if he would ever be of any 
value to the church. I could not bring myself to 
think that he had wrapped his talent in a napkin 
and buried it, for he did not act like one who meant 
to hide his talent. Well, I could not understand just 
what he was good for, unless it was to come to 
church and listen to the preaching and singing, and, 
to some extent, help with the singing himself. 

The duties of life called me to another field. I 
was absent a number of years. But on a beautiful 

55 



56 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

summer day I chanced to enter the old church where 
I had often seen the young man in my congregation, 
but, candidly, I had forgotten all about him. When 
I entered the church I was taken by surprise. A 
marvelous change had come over the interior of the 
building. Years before it was simply a plain, serv- 
iceable, barn-like house, without any attractions. 
On this occasion I found the walls had been 
dressed up with plain but neat colors, which soften 
the light. Shades had been placed over the win- 
dows, the seats neatly grained, the aisles carpeted, 
a neat pulpit constructed and a good, hot air fur- 
nace had been installed. The audience room was in 
a very inviting condition. It had been well aired 
out early in the morning, the carpets and floor were 
clean, and not a particle of dust could be seen on 
either the seats or the pulpit. Everything was 
scrupulously clean and in perfect order. All this 
was arranged before the Sunday-school hour. The 
janitor had done his work so completely that he had 
no occasion whatever for disturbing the audience 
during the Sunday-school and preaching service. 

To my happy surprise I observed that my sup- 
posed one-talented man was the janitor, and I was 
told that he was regarded as the best janitor the 
large congregation ever had. When selected for 
the place he cheerfully accepted the work, and then 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 57 

proceeded to make of himself an ideal janitor. He 
seemed to set his whole mind on his work, and not 
only rendered the best of satisfaction, but really 
made the old-fashioned church the most delightful 
place for services in all the region round about. 
In my own mind I had never been able to find any 
department in church work suited to the capacity 
of the man, but the good Master found a place for 
him, and in this position he was permitted to make a 
splendid use of his one talent. " Surely," I said to 
myself, " here is a man who did not dig a hole in 
the earth and bury his talent simply because he 
had but the one." 

It occurred to me at the time, and I am still im- 
pressed with the same thought, that if we could 
have that kind of a janitor for all of our churches, 
we would, in many instances, have a far better at- 
tendance at most of our services. These are days 
when people, who live in neat homes, do not care to 
attend church in poorly-ventilated, badly-heated and 
dusty audience rooms. They expect to find heaven 
a clean, inviting place, and since they are taught to 
look upon the sanctuary of the Lord as a heavenly 
place in Christ Jesus, it is no more than natural that 
they should expect the house of God to be made 
physically as well as spiritually attractive. We may 
yet find it wise to make more use of our one^talented 
men. 



On the Rented Farm. 

I once knew an old farmer who for several years 
lived on a rented farm. He had a large family, 
mostly girls. All were quite industrious, and in 
moral tone they were the cream of the neighbor- 
hood. The father was intelligent and the children 
bright. They stood second to none of the children 
in the country school which they attended. The 
mother's education had been neglected, but she 
had good sense, a high idea of life and possessed a 
noble heart. 

The house in which these people lived was quite 
modest, but it was kept scrupulously clean, and 
everything around somehow seemed to be always 
in order. The father came to the neighborhood an 
entire stranger, and by his knack for ordinary busi- 
ness succeeded in renting the best little farm in the 
community. The improvements were scant, but 
the soil was the best. As soon as he got on the 
farm everything seemed to take on a new and im- 
proved appearance. The loose fence boards were 
nailed up, the gates put in order, the yard fence re- 
constructed, the loose boards on the house and barn 
received attention, and a little touch was given to 
the fence here and there all around the farm. The 
scattered boards, rails, posts, etc., soon found their 

58 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 59 

way into neat piles. The whole place put on an 
air of cheerfulness. 

As soon as the spring opened, the farmer was in 
his fields with plow, harrow and planter. He lost 
not a day, and was the first man in the neighbor- 
hood to get his seed in the ground. No farmer in 
that part of the country cultivated his crops better, 
nor did any one get better results. This greatly 
pleased the landlord, and he early arranged for the 
farmer to remain on his place as long as he wanted 
to rent. 

The family was poor. The neighbors did not 
know how poor they were. For the first year they 
found it difficult to procure the food, clothing and 
other supplies actually needed. But they did not 
complain. All the members of the family carried a 
cheerful face, and seemed at their best when in the 
presence of others. The family had seen better 
days. A few years before they were in excellent 
circumstances, but a security debt swept away every 
particle of their fine estate. It was a sad hour, 
and cast over their lives a shadow that sad- 
dened the hearts of the father and mother many 
a year. With bleeding hearts and scant supplies 
they left their once charming home, never to return. 
They sought to bury their sorrow and retrieve their 
losses in a new and strange land. This is why we 



60 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

find them on the dilapidated, rented farm. The 
family kept their troubles to themselves, and at the 
same time put forth every effort to regain in a 
measure what had been torn from them. 

For several years the man remained on the same 
rented farm, and soon became known as the most 
industrious, wide-awake and best farmer in the 
community. Each year he saved money, and put 
it in the bank, or out on interest. In time he had 
enough to buy a farm of his own and pay cash for 
it. A few years later he had one of the best im- 
proved farms in the country, and had a reputation 
for honesty, industry and high moral worth second 
to no man in the county. 

He had made life a success, and knew it, but did 
not boast. By attending strictly to his own busi- 
ness, and attending to it well, he had succeeded, 
not only in gaining wealth, but in making a reputa- 
tion that was worth more, in the sight of both God 
and man, than money. He had raised a family that 
was an honor to the neighborhood. 

During all this time he and his wife remained 
faithful members of the Brethren church, though 
not for years did a member live near them. And 
when the Brethren, in course of time, commenced 
preaching in that locality, and succeeded in build- 
ing up a congregation, the farmer and his wife were 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 61 

always looked up to as the modex members of the 
church. In all their experience, whether in poverty 
or in wealth, they had kept their lamp burning, and 
though the brother has long since gone to the bet- 
ter land beyond the stars, it will be many a year 
before his name will cease to be mentioned as that 
of a model man, a model farmej, a model father and 
a model Christian. What he did, others may do. 
He once lost all of his property but did not lose his 
religion. When his finances went to the bottom he 
still kept his light shining. For years he lived 
many miles from any of the members, yet he re- 
mained loyal to the church and her principles. He 
was a man of few words, and was never known to 
make a speech in public, still by his life he preached 
louder than any Brethren preacher who ever lived 
in his community. Religiously speaking he was a 
living epistle, known and read by all those who knew 
him. Whether in the pursuit of wealth or happiness 
he never found religion a hindrance. 



Home, Sweet Home. 

Some years ago an artist, who was traveling in 
the South, sent me a picture of a most dilapidated 
negro cabin. It was built of unhewn pine logs, and 
covered with pine clapboards. The battened door 
opened outward and swung on primitive wooden 
hinges. Not a window pierced the walls of this 
Georgia cabin, and its only noticeable feature was 
a large chimney, built of sticks and clay, and con- 
structed on the outside of the building. Along the 
front was a porch of the most primitive style, with 
puncheon floor, and the whole thing seemed ready 
to collapse. Not an object was to be seen, aside 
from the old building, apparently deserted and for- 
saken. There were no signs of life; not even the 
familiar smoke coming from the old chimney. One 
would have to travel a long distance to find more 
desolate-appearing premises, and yet, beneath the 
roughly-sketched picture, the artist had written the 
title of John Howard Payne's immortal poem, 
" Home, Sweet Home." 

At first thought it was the meeting of the sublime 
and the ridiculous on a common level. But it led 
me to thinking. Probably not two miles away stood 
the marble mansion of the man who could count his 
money by the million. His wife and children im- 

62 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 63 

ported their fine clothing from Paris, and wore dia- 
monds that would lighten up the face of any negro 
in the South. They rode in a fine carriage, had a 
score of servants to wait on them, walked on floors 
covered with rugs of Damascus, ate the richest of 
foods, entertained the most distinguished people in 
the land, slept upon downy beds and never knew 
want. 

A glance at this mansion from without was 
enough to give rise to the sin of covetousness. The 
appearance of the building was artistic in every 
way. An ornamental fence, a charming lawn, beau- 
tiful shade trees, fragrant flowers, and sparkling 
fountains, made a picture that was the envy of 
every lover of the beautiful. To write beneath such 
a picture " Home, Sweet Home " would have seemed 
most fitting indeed. 

How can we compare the dilapidated negro cabin 
with the home of the elite? Around one poverty 
seems to reign, while the other abounds in wealth. 
But " sweet home " is not always found within the 
gilded walls. Delightful lawns, beautiful shade trees, 
lovely flowers and sparkling fountains do not al- 
ways indicate happy hearts. Much of the seeming 
happiness of the rich and even the gifted, may 
be only outward. In this world there is an amaz- 
ing amount of deceit with a gilded surface. 



64 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

In the attempt to combine the ridiculous with the 
sublime may not our artist have unwittingly 
sketched much of the real in life? There is probably 
more genuine happiness in the humble homes of our 
land than may be found within the walls of the 
costly mansions and palaces. Were an angel from 
beyond the stars to visit all the homes in this fair 
America and write " Sweet Home " in letters of gold 
upon the doors behind which peace reigns su- 
preme, we should probably behold the result with 
profound amazement. The more humble would be 
delighted with the title that came to them unsought, 
while thousands of the rich and influential would 
be made thrice miserable because the angel had re- 
fused to adorn their costly doors with the shining 
title. But, after all, how true the lines of Payne: 

'Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, 
Be it ever so humble there's no place like home! 
A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there, 
Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with else- 
where. 

Home! home! sweet, sweet home! 

There's no place like home! 

An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain; 
Oh, give me my lowly thatched cottage again! 
The birds singing gaily that come at my call — 
Give me them — and the peace of mind dearer than all! 

Home! home! sweet, sweet home! 

There's no place like home! 



The Mistake — How Corrected? 

I once baptized a very earnest woman who stood 
well in the city where she resided, and where her 
husband carried on a large mercantile business. She 
had long been connected with one of the denomi- 
nations of the city, and of course attired herself to 
suit the society in which she moved. But she got to 
attending the Brethren services quite regularly, her 
husband being a member of long standing. In those 
days much attention was given to the New Testa- 
ment doctrines. I thought it in perfect keeping with 
my calling as a minister to preach at least one 
doctrinal sermon a month. The idea was to in- 
doctrinate the members and convert sinners. The 
people would turn out to hear discourses of that 
class more readily than they turn out to listen to 
the easy-going sermons of today. 

The woman referred to was sincere. She meant to 
do the right thing and sought for the truth with 
commendable earnestness. She would listen to a 
discourse on trine immersion with intense interest, 
and never once think of complaining because the 
minister took up the whole of one hour presenting 
his arguments. Then there were sermons on the 
design of baptism, feet-washing as a religious rite, 
the Lord's supper as a gospel institution and the 

65 



66 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

loaf and cup of the New Testament. A sermon on 
the philosophy of nonconformity helped the woman 
to do some right thinking, but just how to get the 
full consent of her mind to give up her fashionable 
attire proved the hard struggle in her religious ex- 
perience. 

But she finally reached a decision. Many came 
out on the Lord's side and demanded New Testa- 
ment baptism. She was among the number, and her 
coming to the church caused no little stir among 
her old acquaintances. The woman was not dif- 
ficult to baptize. She had strong nerves and entered 
the water with the full determination that the water- 
grave should serve as a distinct line separating her 
former religious life from the life that she was to 
live in later years. That was a bright day for the 
church as well as for the band of believers who 
had been buried with Christ in the holy act of 
Christian baptism. All of them had pledged them- 
selves to live a life of faithfulness until death, and 
so I felt assured that they would. 
! But a week or more after the inspiring services 
at the water side I chanced to meet the sister in 
question, on a crowded street, attired in her fine, 
fashionable dress bonnet, looking just as she did 
when identified with her former church. There 
were scores of members on the street that day, and, 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 67 

of course, they too would meet the sister and would 
wonder what all this meant. I shook hands with 
her, talked with her quite a while, for she was very 
entertaining, but all the time pretended not to no- 
tice that very fashionable headgear. I said not one 
word to the sister about her appearance, though I 
had an excellent opportunity of doing so. 

An hour later I had time to think. I knew that 
the sister appearing on the street in that manner 
would cause a talk, and according to the church 
custom of the times it would be necessary to send 
some deacons to admonish her and instruct her more 
perfectly. Then it occurred to me that newborn 
creatures in the kingdom of God are sometimes very 
tender, and that a little unskillful handling might 
cripple them spiritually for life. So, leaving the 
deacons and everybody else out of the question, I 
called on a very devout sister, one who stood well 
with the church and who was held in high esteem 
by the sister in question. I told her of the situation 
and suggested that she take the matter in hand, 
saying nothing to others about it. 

I left the case with the sister and went on about 
my work; but that was the last time I ever saw 
that fashionable bonnet. The woman lived a very 
consistent and exemplary life and nearly thirty 
years later was laid to rest by the side of her hus- 



68 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

band. They both died in the faith, beloved and re- 
spected by a large circle of friends. Probably to 
her dying day the sister never knew anything about 
the part I took in having her assisted in a critical 
period of her early Christian life. And not till ten 
years after the occurrence did the sister, whom I 
sent, report to tme the results of her visit. 

This experience has ever since prompted me to ex- 
ercise all possible discretion in dealing with mem- 
bers who unintentionally make mistakes. Just one 
wrong move upon the part of church officials, in 
such, instances, may sometimes prove disastrous. 
Young converts are sensitive. At times they are 
tender. They may even be weak in the faith, and 
for these reasons ought to have the best of care. 
We often send deacons to look after erring ones 
when we ought to send sisters. When a member of 
the family gets dangerously sick we frequently 
employ a well-trained nurse. We want some one 
who knows how to take care of the sick. Why not 
exercise the same judgment when one of the mem- 
bers of the flock becomes weak or sick spiritually? 
Did we deal more wisely in matters of this sort, 
we might be the means, in the hands of God, of 
converting many more people from the error of 
their way. 



Would Not Charge a Preacher. 

Some distance south of Gainesville, Fla., is the 
charming little town of Micanopy. Less than one 
hundred years ago it was a prosperous Indian vil- 
lage, where lived the powerful Indian chief, after 
whom the village was named. Near by is one of 
Florida's picturesque lakes, bearing the same name. 
One could spend weeks here, among the old settlers, 
listening to Indian legends, and to the stories that 
are told about the accomplishments of the famous 
chief and his charming daughter. 

But when I visited the village, while residing in 
the State, some years ago, it was a place of some 
little business, but more generally noted for its de- 
lightful orange groves. It was laid out in lots, some 
small, for business purposes, but most of them va- 
ried in size from one to five acres. All of these lots 
were taken up with orange groves. A man with two 
acres would leave room enough for his house, a few 
other small buildings, and plant the rest of his land 
in orange trees. The trees, when I saw them, were 
large, bore well, and gave the little town the ap- 
pearance of one vast orange grove, with houses 
here and there nestled among the evergreen trees. 
An acre or two of orange trees supported a family. 
Little work was required to care for the trees, and 

69 



70 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

never before nor since' have I seen people so content- 
ed as these people appeared to be. They seemed 
to have all their hearts could wish, and felt that, so 
far as a living was concerned, they were absolutely 
independent. 

In my rounds, through the middle part of Florida, 
business called me to the town, and I put up one 
night at a boarding-house kept by the widow Knox. 
A number of others were boarding at the same place. 
The landlady seemed very kind to all present. In 
the morning I paid my bill, and went on about my 
business. Six months later it became necessary for 
me to visit Micanopy again. It was near midnight 
when I reached the town. I turned in at the same 
house where I stopped before, and by a young man 
was shown into the same neatly-furnished upper 
room in which I had slept on my previous visit. 

After partaking of a good breakfast, the next 
morning, I asked the kind lady what my bill was. 
She said, " Fifty cents." I tendered her a silver half 
dollar. She reached her hand to take it, then sud- 
denly letting her hand drop, she looked me full in 
the eye, and nervously said : " I am informed, sir, 
that you are a minister." I told her I was. She then 
said, " I never charge a minister for staying in my 
house." I told her that I did not wish my position 
as a minister to exempt me from paying my hotel 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 71 

bills, as I was traveling on business. She insisted 
upon adhering strictly to her rule. After thanking 
her for her kindness, and wishing her success and 
much happiness in life, I went away from that 
house, saying to myself, "There are more good 
people in this world than it gets credit for." All 
day long these words rang in my ears : " I never 
charge a minister for staying in my house." 



House-to-House Talks. 

There is one period in my ministerial experience 
that I often think about with pleasure. I was then 
living in a new country, where one often had to 
ride for miles in going from one settlement to an- 
other. I worked during the week, but preached 
every Sunday, sometimes twice. 

I had a monthly appointment in a settlement 
twelve miles from home. I often rode to this 
place on Saturday evening. The entire route was 
through the woods, and on the way I passed but 
few houses. I usually traveled alone, and this gave 
me plenty of time to- think and prepare some of my 
sermons. On horseback, in the woods, is a most 
excellent place for meditation. About trees there 
is something that is inspiring, and the interesting 
scenery is ever changing, while about the moving 
horse and preacher there is a harmony of action that 
is restful to the mind. They soon learn to under- 
stand each other and in time their confidence in one 
another becomes mutual. A more faithful creature 
never existed than the preacher's trusty horse. 

Well, I would ride up to a plain house where the 
conveniences were few and the people poor, but 
everybody would come out to the gate to shake 
hands. One was made to feel welcome. In the 

72 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 73 

evening the neighbors began coming in. Word 
had been sent around that the preacher would be 
there that night and would give a Bible talk. 
Some of these people would come a mile or two, 
most of them walking, and nearly all carrying lan- 
terns. They gathered into a large room, sitting 
on anything that could be made to serve the pur- 
pose of a seat. Here were the fathers and mothers 
with their children, all anxious for this kind of a 
gathering. 

The meeting was informal, in most every way, 
and everybody felt easy. I usually occupied a 
chair by the table. A few hymns were sung, a por- 
tion of Scripture read, and then we had prayer. 
It was like a large family around the family altar. 
Then another Scripture was read and I commenced 
my Bible talk. While making these talks I always 
sat. To the people it did not seem like preaching, 
it was just talking. It was a heart-to-heart talk ; a 
talk where I could meet parents and children face 
to face, and have them near me while the old story 
was being told. 

Perhaps the talk was about Abraham, the man of 
faith and destiny. Here I could sit and tell the 
story of the faithful man from the time he was a 
young man in Ur of Chaldea until his body was 
placed by the side of that of his wife in the cave at 



74 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

Hebron. My talk would last probably an hour, and 
then there was more singing and another season of 
prayer. Before dismissing I would ask about our 
next Bible talk when I came again. There was al- 
ways some one ready to call for the next meeting. 

One time a neighbor requested that the next 
meeting be held at his place. He had some friends 
that he would be pleased to have present. When 
the time came I had the privilege of occupying an 
old armchair, in an old-fashioned Southern house, 
warmed by a cheerful fire in the great fireplace. 
His neighbors and friends were there, for the meet- 
ing was in his house and he felt at liberty to invite 
them. This was probably the best meeting of the 
kind that we held in the neighborhood, for the 
surroundings were most interesting. 

At the close of the services there was general 
handshaking. No one seemed in a hurry. It was 
a sort of a family affair, with religion mixed in, 
and the people somehow got no small amount of 
good out of it. The next day we would have regu- 
lar preaching at the schoolhouse near by. And 
thus the work continued from month to month* 

Since then years have come and gone, but I have 
often thought that should it ever fall to my lot to 
engage in evangelistic work, in a new locality, I 
would again introduce my Bible meetings, and in 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 75 

this way carry the Gospel into the homes of the 
people. I would give much attention to that class 
of teaching that would take me from house to 
house. On these occasions I would talk to the 
parents and the children, having them face to face, 
listening to the interesting story of the Bible. 
Probably we need more of this class of work. It 
brings the Gospel where the people are, and it is 
there that it makes the best impression on them. 



The Good Name. 

On the streets of a Southern village I met an 
aged man, borne down in deep sorrow. I met him 
for the first time years before. He was then a hap- 
py man, possessing a lovely home, engaged in a 
profitable business and had around him sons and 
daughters that cheered his heart. I then regarded 
him as the most fortunate of men. A more charm- 
ing home could not have been found in the " Land 
of Flowers." It was his boast that the bolt of his 
door was never turned in the evening until all the 
children were safe in the family fold. He never 
had to lament and ask, " Oh, where is my boy to- 
night?" He saw that his children were safe at 
home at reasonable hours, and thus kept away from 
the haunts of vice. 

He had made money, and gathered much property 
around him. A good living the balance of his life 
seemed fully assured. Along that line he had noth- 
ing that needed to worry him in the least. He was 
known far and near, and no man had a better name 
or a better reputation. 

But when I met him on the village street a won- 
derful change had come over him. All of his prop- 
erty had been swept away. His charming home 
was gone, his companion in life, the mother of his 

76 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 77 

children, was no more, and his reputation in the 
business world was ruined. The time was when 
nearly every man in the country looked up to him, 
but now all, save a few close friends, paid little at- 
tention to him. 

In an unguarded moment he had affixed his good 
name to a large bond. This he did to help a son- 
in-law rise in business. For a time business flour- 
ished, but reverses came, the young man went down 
and dragged the aged father with him. The earn- 
ings of many years disappeared inside of a few 
months. A business that had required years to es- 
tablish had to be given up, and everything in sight 
had to be sacrificed. The good name, that was of 
more value than the man's property and business, 
had also to suffer, and be divested of its power in 
social and financial circles. 

As I conversed with him he could only lament 
his great loss, feeling that there was nothing left in 
this world for him but the waiting grave. Every- 
thing that had been of any interest to him was 
gone, and the grave, the waiting grave, was his 
only earthly hope. He censured no one, but sim- 
ply lamented. Not an unkind word escaped his 
lips, but he grieved and at times wept, 
f He, of course, saw his -mistake, but only when it 
was too late. His name was good on any bond, but 



78 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

in this instance it proved his ruination. His name 
was worth thousands of dollars, but he had used it 
one time too often, or rather he had made an un- 
wise use of it. With his name went his home, his 
other property and his business. One may think a 
name is a small matter, but in this instance it 
proved of wonderful consequence. 

It may require years to secure a good name, a 
name of value in the social and financial world, but 
how quickly can it be divested of its power! The 
moral of all this is, that the* man who does not 
have a good name should strive for it. Such a 
name is worth the effort of a lifetime. But when it 
is once obtained, it is worth taking care of. Let 
people be careful where they allow their names to 
be used, and then be equally careful regarding the 
reproaches that may be heaped upon a good name. 
Too many people, both young and old, do not value 
a good name as they should. In an unguarded 
moment one may affix his name to an instrument of 
writing that will sweep away his home and his busi- 
ness, and divest the good name of every element of 
power in the commercial world. It may be well for 
my readers to think of the fate of the unfortunate 
old man, who lamented as he walked the streets 
of the little Southern village. 



Testing Things. 

I once spent several hours with a successful 
farmer, and the conversation drifted onto- seed 
corn, for the farmers at that time were planting 
their crops. On account of the short season the sum- 
mer before, the farmer's corn did not ripen well, 
so he sent away for seed corn. When the corn ar- 
rived he took one hundred grains and planted them 
in a box that was kept in a warm room. In due 
time the corn grew and one hundred sprouts were 
counted. He knew from this that every grain of his 
seed corn could be depended upon. He said that he 
never planted corn without first testing it in this 
way. 

His experience put me to thinking about testing 
people and even doctrines and methods. It might be 
well for the church to test men before placing too 
great responsibilities on them. If they are to be 
placed in charge of mission points, we should know 
what may be expected of them. Men for this class 
of work should first be faithful, and then they 
should show that they have the ability to teach 
others. Without these two special qualifications 
they ought not to be entrusted with important and 
far-reaching duties. 

Ministers should also be tested before they are ad- 

79 



80 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

vanced to the second degree of the ministry, or be- 
fore they are ordained at least. It is one thing for 
a young brother to be elected to the ministry, but 
quite another thing for him to preach. If, after a 
fair trial, it becomes evident that he cannot preach, 
why should he be advanced! His efforts, while in 
the first degree, ought to settle the question as to 
whether he has the ability to become a useful min- 
ister. The same principle might apply to minis- 
ters before they are ordained. 

We need not test what is plainly stated in the 
Bible, for we know that to be correct. But we may 
have ideas of our own that need to be tested. Pos- 
sibly a little testing might convince us that we are 
mistaken. A theory that will not pass muster with 
the best informed Bible students and the most de- 
vout Christians, might well put its advocates to 
thinking. I know that the minority is often in the 
right, but this does not prove that the majority is 
always mistaken. "Prove all things," says Paul, 
" and hold fast that which is good." 

Our methods, or ways of doing things, might be 
tested, and if they will not stand the test, they 
should be dropped, or exchanged for others. A 
method may work all right for one generation and 
yet not be the thing for the next generation. Nothr 
ing short of the best should satisfy the earnest 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 81 

Christian worker; hence the importance of proving, 
or testing all things. We can judge of methods by 
the results. If these are not satisfactory there may 
be something wrong, and if we are wise we will 
refuse to hold fast that which is not good. 

There are people who are afraid to have their 
pet theories, or favorite methods, tested. They feel 
too uncertain about the results. They think that 
what has all along been good enough for them, 
should be good enough for everybody else. They 
may be right, and then, on the other hand, they 
may be mistaken. Proving all things, as Paul sug- 
gests, would settle it, and why not have it settled? 
The good will always stand the test. Yes, why not 
be as wise as was the wide-awake farmer who tested 
his corn before planting it? 



Talking Religion. 

I happened to know a man who became an enthu- 
siastic supporter of the lodge in which he had 
taken membership. In his home he talked much 
about his lodge, telling how this family had been 
helped, how atention was given to a sick man, how 
the doctor bill was paid for another, and in what 
way he considered his lodge superior to any church 
known to him. And thus he continued talking lodge, 
always telling the good side, of course, until the 
wife finally concluded that she would become a 
member of some secret order admitting women. 

She became delighted and at the table joined her 
husband in talks about the good the lodges were do- 
ing. With them it was all lodge and no church, and 
in this atmosphere the children of the family grew 
to manhood and womanhood, and it takes no proph- 
et to tell how it happened that they all turned out 
to be zealous lodge people. It was all because the 
father began talking lodge in his family and kept it 
up. The father and mother did not have to persuade 
their children to accept the lodge ideas, they grew 
up in that atmosphere and accepted lodge princi- 
ples of their own accord. 

There is nothing strange about this. It is simply 
natural. Parents who continually talk Catholicism 

82 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 83 

in the family, from the time their children are babes, 
until they are old enough to think for themselves, 
are certain to send out from their homes a little 
band of earnest Catholics. The same principle will 
hold good with any denomination. It will hold good 
with the principles held by the Brethren. If we want 
our children to grow to manhood and womanhood, 
filled with love and respect for the Brethren, we 
must talk about the teachings of the church, the 
sermons preached, the good books printed, the in- 
teresting matter in our papers, the goodly men and 
the sainted women. We must talk about the good 
that is being done, become interested in the work 
of the church, and all her undertakings. We must 
have something good to say about her earnest 
preachers and the sermons they preach, being sure, 
at all times, to throw the mantle of charity over 
the defects as they come to our notice. 

This way of talking will, of course, lead to the 
Bible, and to the principles it teaches, and thus the 
doctrine of the church will become instilled in the 
hearts of the children. We need not make any spe- 
cial effort to get the principles and love of the 
Brethren church into the hearts of the boys and 
girls, but simply permit them to grow up in this 
kind of a religious atmosphere and they will read- 



84 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

ily take to the Brethren church in preference to all 
others. 

This kind of talking and environment may not 
make any politicians, but it will make Christians 
by the hundreds. It may be with your boys like it 
was with Bro. Wilbur Stover, of India, when he 
was a boy in school. Politics ran high in the school 
and the other boys tried to find out whether Wilbur, 
as they called him, was a Democrat or a Republican. 
He was told that he must take his stand and let 
the boys know to what party he held. In his be^ 
wilderment he said that he was neither a Republi- 
can nor a Democrat, he was a " Dunker." He went 
home and repeated the incident to his mother, and 
she told him that his answer was all right. 

The circumstance shows the kind of an atmos- 
phere in which the boy had been raised. His par- 
ents had talked the right kind of religion, and the 
boy early imbibed correct ideas, and they are now 
a part of the mental and moral make-up of the man. 
These incidents should prove helpful to parents and 
others who wish to help those around them re- 
ligiously or otherwise. There is nothing like living 
out what we believe, and then talking it as oppor- 
tunity and prudence may present occasion. Some 
people may not be able to talk fluently about what 
they believe to be right, but if they will commence 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 85 

early enough, and put in a whole lifetime at it, they 
are sure to see its effect in their own families as well 
as among their neighbors. 

^% £rt ^V 

From most homes the time-honored altar, at which 
our godly parents bowed and prayed, has been re- 
moved. We no more hear the songs of Zion and the 
earnest pleading in the evening or in the morning as 
in days of yore. This is a busy world. Every per- 
son is living the strenuous life. There may be a 
time to jest and a time to play, but there seems to 
be no time to pray. Out of twenty-four hours, each 
day, there is no hour of prayer, though there may be 
hours for everything else. Certainly we should 
have the family altar restored in some way. It is 
the very foundation of the church as well as the 
home. If it is not convenient to pray in the even- 
ing, pray in the morning. If the family and inmates 
of the house cannot be collected around the center 
table, collect them around the table in the dining 
room. A fixed hour in the living room, in the 
evening, might be arranged for, and called the hour 
of prayer. If this cannot be done, ten minutes at the 
breakfast table, reading the Scriptures and pray- 
ing, will bring comfort and blessings for the day. 



Killing the Church. 

I sat at the table of a highly respected and well- 
to-do family in one of the Southern States. The 
conversation drifted to the history and death of a 
relative of great wealth, and widely known in most 
of the States. The lady of the house remarked, 
" Yes, and Aunty just killed Uncle with the rich 
and unhealthy food with which her table was daily 
supplied." It was sad to hear her thus speak of her 
uncle's death. But the heart was too full to keep 
back the truth. The man was worth his millions, 
and much was said in the leading journals about his 
achievements and his death, but not a line was 
printed setting forth the fact as it was stated by the 
lady at the table. 

All over this country there are men and women 
going to untimely graves just for the want of 
healthy and nourishing food. Unwise cooks and 
richly-laden tables are rapidly filling the graves in 
the city of the dead. This is sad, but there may be 
something sadder yet. 

Once upon a time I was told of an able preacher 
who was killing the church over which he presided, 
by constantly preaching to his members concerning 
the defects of other congregations, and some of the 
mistakes of a few of his own flock. Instead of giv- 

86 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 87 

ing his people the healthy and nourishing Gospel 
food that they so greatly needed, and for which 
they earnestly plead, he fed them on that which on- 
ly a few of the stronger could endure, and retain 
their spiritual life. The man was killing his church, 
and no one seemed to have the courage to tell him 
of his terrible mistake. 

What is said of this instance may, in a measure, 
apply to a score of others. Preachers often spend 
too much time parading the defects of the church 
before their members. They fill their souls with 
discouraging and unhealthy thoughts, instead of the 
spiritual food that is so essential to spiritual growth. 
No church can thrive on such preaching. You 
might as well look for healthy children in a family 
where the most unhealthy food is served at all the 
meals. 

It is a sad experience for the sheep of the Master's 
flock to go to the house of God, Sunday after Sun« 
day, expecting to be fed on the bread that Com- 
eth down from heaven, and be put off with the un- 
desirable news picked up here and there, among 
people noted for their defects in life. People hav- 
ing this experience go away from the religious 
sanctuary disappointed. It is only the nourishment 
that comes from above that can help men and wom- 
en to the higher and better life. 



88 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

In order to retain spiritual growth in a congrega- 
tion, the members must be well supplied with the 
nourishing food that comes from above. Some of 
them must be fed more or less on the sincere milk 
of the Word, while others can bear strong meat. 
But under no circumstances should the precious mo- 
ments of the Lord's Day service be spent parading 
either the defects of the church or the evils of the 
world before those hungering and thirsting after 
righteousness. Jesus told Peter to feed both the 
sheep and the lambs, and were more attention given 
to this consideration we would hear and see far less 
of weak members going astray. Let every minister 
see to it, that the flock over which the Holy Ghost 
has made him overseer, is properly fed and en- 
couraged. He ought to be as ready to rebuke the 
man who fills the minds of his members with the 
faults and defects of others as he is to rebuke the 
one who would preach another Gospel. If we want 
strong, healthy members we must feed them upon 
the Bread of Heaven, as the Lord intended. 



Some Observations at Church. 

While seated in the pulpit, one Sunday morning, 
I observed a care-worn woman entering, carrying 
one child and leading another. Three other chil- 
dren followed. She gathered them around her as 
a hen would her little chicks. Presently the hus^- 
band entered, a strong man, looking as though he 
enjoyed life as well as the table. He picked out a 
good, comfortable seat at one end of the bench, and 
fixed himself to take things easy. So far as I could 
discover he had no concern about the mother and 
her five children. He came to meeting to enjoy it, 
and meant to get all the good possible out of the 
service. 

I looked at the woman. She seemed tired and yet 
she did her best to appear cheerful. Hers were good 
children, accustomed to attending services, and 
yet they required her constant attention. She was 
a hard-working woman in her home, for the family 
was poor. Instead of having to care for the entire 
little flock she should have been relieved in some 
manner. I wondered why that strong husband of 
hers could not have taken at least two of the chil- 
dren to the seat with him. That would have been 
a relief to the overworked mother. Then it would 
have looked manly for him, to have assumed at 

89 



90 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

least a part of the family burden. It would have 
given the mother a better opportunity to enjoy the 
service and get some of the rest she needed. I cer- 
tainly pitied the woman, and felt very much like 
preaching a sermon on the text, " Husbands, love 
your wives/* 

Presently a man entered, carrying a child, which 
he took care of during the meeting. His wife looked 
real cheerful and happy. She occupied another seat 
with some of the larger children. To me that looked 
sensible, and I felt like commending the man for his 
fatherly and sensible conduct. His good wife got 
the full benefit of the service and went away from 
that meeting a stronger woman, spiritually. To her 
the service was restful as well as instructive. 

Another woman entered, accompanied by a few 
well-fed children. In appearance she was all sun- 
shine, and enjoyed this world for all there was in 
it. Generally speaking, she was a good mother, a 
most obliging neighbor and passed as a dutiful 
church member. She was always ready for any work 
around the meetinghouse and especially at love feast 
times, but in some way did not seem to enter fully 
into the spirit of a service. 

As soon as she was seated, she passed out a cooky 
to each of her children, and offered some to other 
children. Her idea of raising children was to dress 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 91 

them comfortably and feed them well. It never oc- 
curred to her most obliging soul that it is ill man- 
ners to eat in church, and that she was simply 
teaching her little folks bad manners, to say noth- 
ing of the tendency of her conduct to make other 
children in the house discontented and fretful. 

All of this occurred in an out-of-the-way place. 
Properly speaking, the last mother named should 
have, from the start, trained her children not to eat 
in church. It is bad church ethics. In the 
former case the husband might have occupied a seat 
with his wife and children, but this meeting was 
in a locality where the men occupied one side of 
the house and the women the other. 



The Friend of Birds. 

Among living creatures there is nothing that is 
more admired than birds. The ease with which 
they make their way through the air, and the per- 
fect freedom they enjoy, make them the envy of 
many a thinking person. One never grows tired 
watching birds on the wing, or as they leap from 
limb to limb among the trees. They seem to be 
at home on the swinging branch of a lofty tree, 
on the ground, or while passing through the air. 
For grace and independence of movements there 
is nothing to equal them. To be able to navigate the 
air has been the ambition of civilized man for all 
generations. Man longs to fly like a bird and en- 
joy the same freedom of the air. In a limited way 
he may be able to reach the object of his ambi- 
tion, but he is not likely to> enjoy the freedom 
which, by right of creation, belongs to the fowls of 
the air. 

Man has never made himself the friend of the 
little feathered beings. He has chosen rather to be 
known as their enemy. He has acted like an enemy. 
From boyhood he has made it a point in life to 
frighten the birds. He treats them as enemies and 
outlaws, not knowing, seemingly, that they are 
man's best friends. True, they may eat some of the 

92 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 93 

delicious fruits and destroy a little grain, but, on 
the other hand, each bird destroys thousands of 
worms and bugs that harm growing crops. In this 
way he more than pays for his living. 

It would be delightful if man could live on friend- 
ly terms with the interesting birds of the country. 
Let him treat them kindly and cultivate their friend- 
ship, and they will show the utmost confidence in 
him. There are parks in which birds are never 
frightened by man and they have become as tame 
as kittens. Were we always to treat them kindly, 
they would soon have for us the love that casteth 
out all fear. 

If men and women would live on better terms 
with the birds around them, they would be better 
and happier beings. They would often feed the love- 
ly little creatures, provide watering places for them 
and learn to take an interest in their welfare. They 
would soon find themselves less selfish, and discover 
that this world, with its myriads of living objects, 
is a great deal better place than they had been led 
to think. They would be charmed by the little 
tokens of confidence and regard, shown by the birds 
that visit their premises. They would study their 
habits and become interested in their migration 
movements, as well as in their great meetings, for 
our friends of the air have their conventions, discuss 



94 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

their questions and problems, reach conclusions, 
and act on them as their bird wisdom may direct. 
In this connection we are reminded of one of the 
sights that might have been witnessed in Paris 
a few years ago. There was a woman who daily fed 
the birds in the gardens of the Tuileries. No one 
seemed to know the lady, and in fact she spoke 
to no one, but made it her business to cultivate a 
close acquaintance with her little friends of the 
air and feed them. A gentleman who had the priv- 
ilege of witnessing the scene gives this description 
of the woman and her manner of dealing with her 
feathered companions: 

** Crossing the Tuileries Garden on one of the late mild 
days, my attention was attracted by an immense commo- 
tion among the sparrows which abound in that locality. 
They were chattering and flying to and fro, and finally 
collected in swarms at a single point. There I saw the 
cause of their agitation, the well-known bird-charmer of 
the Tuileries Garden. She is a person about thirty years 
of age, pale, with very black hair, dressed in the deepest 
mouring and wearing no bonnet. She was surrounded 
by birds that hopped and perched right at her feet, or 
flew circling round her head, apparently without the 
slightest fear. 

" She would hold out a bit of bread, and instantly three 
or four would hover around it with rapidly-whirling 
wings, like humming birds around a flower, some perch- 
ing on her fingers, while others would peck at the coveted 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 95 

morsel on the wing. Then she would throw crumbs into 
the air, which would be adroitly caught by the swiftest- 
winged birds before they reached the ground. A shower 
of crumbs brought the little creatures to her feet like 
chickens, nor did the presence of the by-standers, who 
soon collected in great numbers, appear to terrify her 
proteges in the least. They seemed to feel perfectly se- 
cure in the presence of their benefactress. She walked 
slowly on, followed and surrounded by hundreds of the 
eager, fluttering birds." 

He who would number his friends by the hun- 
dred may do well to cultivate the friendship of the 
birds. 



The Anointing. 

It was one Sunday afternoon. Thus far the day 
had been pleasantly spent. The Sunday-school 
lesson in the morning was about Jesus the Good 
Shepherd. We had also listened to an excellent 
sermon concerning the leaven in three measures of 
meal. We felt that we had something on which to 
meditate during the week. But there was to be a 
change in the line of thought, for the time at least. 

A young sister had been sick for weeks. She 
had suffered much, but during all her illness not a 
murmur or complaint had escaped her lips. To all 
who visited her she appeared as one perfectly re- 
signed to the will of God. While in good health 
she was much beloved, but in her sickness she 
seemed to have drawn the members still closer to 
her, and therefore closer to God. She, however, 
desired the anointing, and had called for the elders 
to perform the sacred and solemn rite. They came 
at her request, and others came also. 

An air of solemnity seemed to pervade the place. 
All felt that they had come together for no ordi- 
nary purpose. Without the gentle showers were 
coming down, and all nature was smiling. Every 
flower and every spear of grass appeared to be de- 
lighted, for they were drinking in the forces that 

9,6 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 97 

were dropping from the clouds. But why should 
nature do anything but rejoice! The hand that 
made the smiling vegetation was diffusing his bless- 
ings through the clouds. It is not too much to 
say that the scene without was in keeping with 
the scene within. The earnest men and women of 
God had come together, seeking a blessing first for 
the young sister and then for themselves. They 
knew that the Father of our spirits had promised to 
bless those who in good faith call for the anointing. 
In appearance they may have seemed sad, but 
within there was joy in the Holy Ghost. 

Around the well-kept couch, where lay the weak 
form, gathered the fervent in prayer, and appealed 
to God for help, for we all realized that he can and 
will aid where no earthly physician can. The elders 
applied the oil in the name of the Lord, as directed 
in James 5 : 14. They prayed that the Lord would 
restore the young sister to health, for they felt that 
the young pilgrim might be of some use in the 
Master's work. Then they prayed that her sins 
might all be forgiven. They had no doubt but 
that their earnest prayer would, in some manner, be 
answered, for to the Lord they had said, " Not our 
will, but thine, O Lord, be done." He who can 
see the end from the beginning, has his way of 
answering prayers, and those who have a spiritual 



98 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

insight into God's dealings in this world, can see 
answers where the less spiritual cannot. 

But in the room, on this occasion, the gentle 
showers of grace were coming down, and the spirit- 
ual natures were being refreshed. Hope was 
springing up in one soul after another. Good im- 
pressions were made upon the hearts, and more 
than one person present resolved from that hour to 
live a more devoted life. One act of kindness 
followed another, and no person thought of being 
anything else but just as good as his abilities and 
opportunities would permit. Smiles were seen 
playing over the face of the young sister. The 
gentle showers of grace, from even beyond the 
clouds, had reached her soul. Hope revived, the 
faith grew stronger, and she felt perfectly resigned 
to the will of the Great Being who had given her 
her form as well as her soul. She was back again 
in the Potter's hands, this time to be moulded either 
for use in God's house upon the earth or for use in 
the great house beyond the stars. She was not 
troubled. Why should she be! Who can deal 
more gently with the vessel than the potter who 
formed it, gave it its shape and fitted it for use? 
It was the soul, this time, to which the potter was 
giving special attention. It needed some finishing 
touches, and how important that these touches be 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 99 

given by one who is not only a moulder, but an 
artist as well. 

But as I walked away from the sister's earthly 
home I wondered why more of the sick do not call 
for the elders to come and anoint them? There is 
so much in the anointing. "The prayer of faith 
shall save the sick." There are so many ways in 
which the sick may be saved. Even the life may 
be prolonged, for he who gave life can lengthen it. 
He who made the vessel can also renew the bonds 
of life. He one time added fifteen years to the life 
of a king. But at other times he permits the trans- 
planting to take place early. I say he permits it, 
for he who made all things knows what is best for 
the plant as well as for the vessel that contains the 
plant. 

And then we read, "The Lord shall raise him 
up." This gives hope. It strengthens the faith, 
and it is through the hope and faith that the Heav- 
enly Physician can do most effectual work for the 
drooping spirit. As the raindrops from the clouds 
prolong the life of plants, so will the showers of 
grace, received into the soul, add strength to the 
outer as well as to the inner life. " If he have com- 
mitted sins, they shall be forgiven him." The best 
of all promises ! If the tender plant must be trans- 
planted, let it first be cleansed and every defect re- 



100 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

moved. If it is to remain upon the earth, it is only 
the better for the forgiveness. Then, why not call 
for the anointing ! The hand of God is in it. 

fc5* c5* t<5* 

Years ago a blind man came to our meetinghouse 
to conduct a singing-class. He was an expert in 
music and knew how to teach it. His books were 
made for the blind. By passing his fingers over the 
raised lines he could read readily. He needed no 
light to read by. The first evening the lamps in the 
meetinghouse gave very poor light, so much so that 
most people could not see to read. The blind teach- 
er did not know the difference. He called out the 
number of the hymn and proceeded to sing. As the 
people could not see well but few of them helped 
to sing. A preacher in the congregation then rose 
and remarked that the blind man was more fortu- 
nate than most people, for he could read whether 
there was any light or not. Everybody smiled. The 
blind man said he never thought of it in that way 
before. Possibly more of us might take that view of 
our misfortunes. 



The Seed We Are Sowing. 

Some time in the eighties a man, interested in bee 
culture, drove along the road, in a certain section 
of Illinois, and scattered sweet clover seed as he 
went. He threw out small quantities of seed, first 
on one side of the road and then on the other. The 
seed grew, the plant spread, and now, in midsum- 
mer, the roads for miles and miles in every direc- 
tion, are lined with the sweet clover. Most farmers 
say the plant is a nuisance, and that it is spreading 
to their fields. A few people see some good in it, 
especially the bee men and those who permit their 
cattle to graze by the roadside. But the sweet clover 
is there, and it is there to stay, all because some 
man scattered a small amount of seed, here and 
there, as he passed along. 

Well, how about the seed that we purpose sow- 
ing as we journey down through life's lane? We are 
told that " whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he 
also reap." Then, on the other hand, we sow for 
others to reap. One generation sows the seed that 
may be reaped by the next generation. Parents sow 
seed for their children to reap, and one neighbor 
sows seed that must, sooner or later, be reaped by 
the whole neighborhood. 

We are reminded of a lady who is prominent in 

101 



102 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

wealthy and fashionable society. For a time the 
eyes of the whole world were centered on her, first 
on account of the prominency of her family, and, 
second, on account of her womanly personality. It 
might be said of her, at one time, that she was the 
belle of civilization. She was admired and respected 
by the best people on two continents. But there 
came an unfortunate day for her as well as for a 
large class of her admirers. She fell to smoking 
cigarettes, and even went so far as to say that she 
considered the habit ladylike. This she said without 
considering how much bad seed she was sowing for 
others to reap. Thousands of young ladies took up 
the habit of smoking cigarettes, not because they 
particularly liked smoking, but because they were 
weak enough to be induced to follow a foolish and 
hurtful example, set by a prominent young woman. 
In the course of a few weeks seeds of this kind 
were sown in every fashionable section in the 
United States, and to some extent in other coun- 
tries. 

I am told of another instance of seed sowing. A 
mother moved into town with her two talented and 
beautiful daughters. The mother was one of those 
sensible women who believe in preparing girls for 
unselfishness in the world, rather than for fashion- 
able society. As was her custom, she dressed her 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 103 

girls plainly, but neatly and well. They wore good 
clothing, but the garments were plainly made. 
When the two strange girls appeared in school there 
was no little sensation among the fashionable girls. 
They gradually drew apart from the new girls, and 
practically left them without any associates among 
what were known as the best girls in school. This 
so mortified the two girls that they in tears plead 
with their mother to either dress them as the other 
girls were attired, or not ask them to go to school 
any more. 

The mother knew a good thing when she saw it, 
and further knew that with care the fittest would 
survive. So she had a good, motherly talk with the 
girls, and told them, that they did not move into 
town with a view of being wrongly moulded by 
people who were not doing the right thing, but their 
purpose should be to stand for the right and that 
which is sensible, and help others to reach a higher 
and better plane of living. Instead of having the 
fashionable mould her girls, she insisted on her 
girls moulding them, if such a thing should be pos- 
sible. 

The girls caught the spirit of their wise mother. 
Continuing their school work, they secured the best 
grade in the school and were soon looked upon as 
the brightest and best-behaved girls in town. They 



104 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

made a record in their studies that placed them at 
the head of everything in school. In a short time 
other girls sought their society and help, and it 
was not many months until all the best girls were 
their close friends. As a result, the other girls be- 
gan to dress plainer, and in time the town became 
noted for its sensible, intelligent and cultured young 
women. All of this came from sowing the right 
kind of seed. It certainly pays to sow good seed. 



Angels Weeping. 

There came to my desk a letter unlike anything 
received for years. It showed certain conditions that 
deserve more than a passing notice, and I tell the 
story for the benefit of others. 

A devout Christian mother has raised a family of 
children. She has gathered around her boys and 
girls that ought to be a credit to any mother. From 
the time her children were babes she has been ex- 
ceedingly careful how she conducted herself in their 
presence. Not an unbecoming word has intention- 
ally escaped her lips* Her children have been taught 
to love the Bible and even to reverence the church. 
They have a great regard for their mother's church, 
believing that it is the true church of God. In the 
presence of her children she has never spoken one 
uncomplimentary word about the church or any of 
the members. Her most earnest desire has been to 
raise her children for the Lord, and for that reason 
she has endeavored to cultivate in them a right 
regard for the church and all those connected with 
the body of Christ. 

As a result her children held the members in 
high esteem, and especially the ministers. They 
looked upon a minister of the Brethren church as a 
truly consecrated man, who, in every particular, 

105 



106 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

meant to do only the right thing. They knew a 
preacher only to love and respect him. But there 
came into her neighborhood a minister who proved 
not to be an exemplary man. Even his conversa- 
tion is unbecoming a minister. His deportment is 
not up to the average conduct of well-meaning out- 
siders. The man seems to take no special interest 
in reaching a higher plane in the Christian life. 
As a minister he is no credit to either the church 
or the community. He is a detriment rather than 
a help to the cause. 

The life of this minister is having a bad effect up- 
on the sister's children. Some of them are old 
enough to unite with the church. But they have 
no confidence in this preacher. His manner of life 
does not impress them. They see and hear things 
that they know are not becoming one who stands 
behind the sacred desk. They listen to his preach- 
ing, but have no confidence in what he says, and 
will not unite with the church while he remains. 
The mother is troubled. She now sees no way of 
getting her children in the church. Her own faith 
is strong enough to carry her over troubles and 
obstacles of this kind, but that is not the case with 
her well-raised and intelligent children. She is at 
a point in life where she does not know what to do. 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 107 

She can only weep and pray. She says it is enough 
to make the angels weep. 

I need not tell who this preacher is. I do 
not know, but some day he will be called upon to 
give a fearful account at the judgment bar of God. 
But in the meantime it might be well for each min- 
ister to go into a self-examination, to see whether 
or not he is standing in the way of some earnest 
mother's children. It is possible that some preach- 
er may be doing this very thing and not know it. 
It is a most fearful thing to be the means of keep- 
ing anyone out of heaven. But it is being done in 
more places than one, and well may the angels 
weep. 



Snow-Bound. 

On a certain Sunday morning, a few years ago, 
when the services in my home congregation closed, 
there was a raging snowstorm without. It looked 
like the beginning of a regular blizzard. At 3 P. M. 
I had an appointment at Batavia, fourteen miles 
away. The place could be reached by an electric 
line. A wanderer was to be restored to fellowship. 
The severity of the storm indicated that should I 
start I might possibly reach the meeting, but would 
not be permitted to return until the blizzard was 
over. But duty said, Go, and go I did. The 
" go " is the preacher's marching order, and it is 
always in force when there is something to do in 
the interest of the kingdom. 

At the appointed hour the meeting was opened 
with singing and prayer as usual. Without the 
storm was quite severe; it had grown worse ever 
since it commenced, with no prospect of letting up. 
In the little congregation at Batavia there were, all 
told, thirty-two members, and over twenty of them 
were present at the meeting. There are not many 
congregations that can make a better showing when 
there is a regular blizzard on hand. I was glad I 
went, for I do like to meet with a people who can 
brave a storm to attend a members' meeting, or any 
other religious service. 

108 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 109 

It was announced for what purpose the meet- 
ing had been called. The brother who desired to re- 
turn to the family of the Lord arose and told his 
own story. It was a touching story, and caused not 
a few tears to flow. The members voted unanimous- 
ly in favor of receiving him back into the fold. The 
brother took his stand at a convenient place and the 
members came forward and received him. I always 
liked this way of doing. It reminded one of what 
we read in Luke 15, where the touching story is 
given concerning the returning prodigal. This is 
the way it was done on this occasion. 

After this was over, a number of short speeches 
were made. Bro. Geo. D. Zollers was present, and 
if anybody can rejoice over a returning prodigal it 
is Bro. Zollers. So his speech was full of encour- 
agement. It was a Christian welcome from begin- 
ning to end. Then followed other talks. They were 
all speeches of welcome. What grand meetings we 
might sometimes have when wayward ones are re- 
stored to the fold, if there could be more addresses 
of welcome given ! Next we had a season of pray- 
er, and then the hour was ended. To me it was a 
real spiritual meeting, and everybody went away 
feeling that they were greatly blessed, and that they 
will be only the better for having attended that 
service. 



110 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

The meeting over, the next thing for me was to 
get home. The blizzard was still raging and in- 
creasing in severity. It was Sunday, that is true, 
but I do not object to traveling on the Lord's Day 
when I am about my Father's business. And so it 
was on this occasion. The Father's business must 
not be neglected. So I started for home, but at the 
end of two miles my way was blocked. The snow 
had drifted; the cuts were full of the "beautiful," 
and the car could not be moved. My only resource 
was a hotel, for it happened to be in a city that I 
had to abandon further progress. 

How to spend the evening was the question. 
When going from home, for even a short time, I 
usually put a book in my pocket to read, but on 
this occasion I forgot to provide myself with a book. 
I had time here to read a small volume. At the hotel 
I called for a bunch of paper. Seated at a table in 
the office, I took out my fountain pen and thus 
opened up my sanctum. Men stood around. Some 
talked. Others read aloud, and a few of them 
smoked. The environments were by no means fav- 
orable for literary work. But my pen started in at 
the beginning of this chapter and went on to the 
end. 

I am not in the habit of writing on Sunday, but 
when one is snow-bound, and has no book to read, 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 111 

what better thing can he do! Had it not been for 
this particular experience, I probably would not have 
thought of telling about the good little meeting 
held in the midst of a blizzard. Nor would I have 
thought of telling how we sometimes receive an err- 
ing brother back into the fold. I might never have 
told of the speeches of welcome that were made. 
And this chapter for my book might never have 
been written. It is an ill wind that blows no good. 



The Good Old Time. 

I looked upon an old-time, but pleasing, picture. 
TWo girls were seated on a large rug near the cen- 
ter of a large room. In front of them was the old 
fireplace, such as might have been seen in one of 
the Eastern or Southern States fifty years ago. The 
fire was burning brightly, and lighted up the entire 
room. At one side stood the long-handled frying 
pan and the great cook pot. The broom and tongs 
were near by, while the great churn stood farther 
away. The crane swung in the fireplace, ever ready 
to receive the great pot and suspend it over the 
fire. In front of the blazing fire lay seven fine ap- 
ples, such as might be grown in any well-cultivated 
orchard. They were placed there to roast, one side 
at a time, and must needs be turned so as to get 
roasted through and through. 

Probably hundreds of our aged readers will recall 
the time when they used to sit around the old fire- 
place to roast apples and to pop corn. Farther south 
chestnuts were added to the list. While the fire 
was doing its work, stories were related, riddles pro- 
pounded, or the news of the day was told. Mother 
or father had something of interest to narrate, or 
the children had learned of something that proved 
interesting to listen to. Occasionally a short chap- 

112 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 113 

ter in some old book was read, for seldom were 
newspapers seen in those days. Most people were 
too poor to afford even candles, and the light from 
the fireplace answered the purpose of lamp and fur- 
nace combined. And thus the evenings were spent 
most pleasantly and even profitably. 

More might have been learned by the aid of 
books, but books were scarce and costly. More 
public meetings might have been held, but the 
neighbors lived, as a rule, some distance apart, and 
preachers were not often seen. After the roasted 
apples, nuts, and pop corn were disposed of, then 
all became composed. The great Book was taken 
from the mantel over the fireplace, a chapter read, 
and then there was earnest prayer. A half hour later 
the ashes were shoveled onto the fire, and then all 
was quiet. The family was in the land of dreams. 

This way of living may not have been very hy- 
gienic, but it produced good results. It kept the 
boys and girls at home of nights. Mother was never 
heard singing, "O where is my boy tonight? " He 
was at home, and so was the father. There may 
have been other causes for heartaches, but there 
were no down-town troubles. Children, in these 
good old times, as we are in the habit of speaking, 
may not have known so much about books as the 
present generation of young people, but then they 



114 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

learned less of the current evils. They did not have 
the whole world to think about, with the sun, moon 
and stars thrown in, but they had the good and pure 
of a well-regulated home life for their mental as 
well as their soul training. 

That kind of a life might not suit the present 
times so well, but it would be a blessing to have 
some of it mixed in with the present fast and care- 
less way of living. Could we but have more of this 
old-fashioned home life, along with the fine educa- 
tional advantages, what a noble generation of peo- 
ple might succeed the present one! 

But that will not likely occur. With the genera- 
tions of the past have gone their ways of living, and 
we must now labor to secure the best possible re- 
sults from what we have at our command. It may be 
altogether possible that the young of today will, 
fifty years hence, look back and long for the good 
old times of their youth. Yes, the things we look 
upon as new, will by them be regarded as old. And 
so it goes. Our only comfort is to look forward to 
the time when the old shall pass away, and all 
things shall become new. So it is to the new that we 
are looking for happiness, after all. When we get 
over yonder, in the new world, we will no more 
long for the good old times in this world. 



The Lord's Day. 

The resolutions formed on Saturday night or 
Sunday morning determine the destiny of hundreds 
if not tens of thousands. The week's work is done, 
the wages for the toil of six days have been re- 
ceived, and it is a question as to how the morrow 
shall be spent. Sometimes the question is not set- 
tled until Sunday morning. The question is not 
confined to the day laborer, but it applies to the 
farmers and others as well. 

Among worldly people there might possibly be 
some excuse for laying pleasure plans for the Lord's 
Day. They are unconverted, belong to the world 
and often seek to spend the Lord's Day in a world- 
ly manner. To see them riding over the country, 
absenting themselves from the place of worship, 
and seeking the pleasure resorts is no more than 
might be expected. But why should Christians 
follow their example? Why should the believers 
lay pleasure plans on Saturday evening and then 
rise early on Sunday morning to execute them? 
Why should devout people leave the house of God 
and go out into the world for enjoyment? 

I once knew a family that was never troubled 
with this question. In fact, I have known many 
families that probably never gave the question one 

115 



116 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

moment's thought. But this particular family had 
its face set Zionward, and on Saturday evening ev- 
ery member retired with the full purpose of spend- 
ing the Lord's Day in a manner wholly becoming 
their profession. They arose on Sunday morning 
with that as a fixed purpose. It was no trouble for 
them to get ready for Sunday School and meeting. 
They did not have to make up their minds as to 
whether they would attend the services that day. 
That question was settled in their very makeup. 
It was therefore an easy matter for them to drive 
eight miles to church. 

None of their neighbors thought of visiting them 
on Sunday forenoon. They knew that was their 
time to go to church, and everybody for miles 
around, and all along the road to the meeting- 
house, would have thought it strange if they did 
not go. The people who attended the services, 
from time to time, always expected to see that par- 
ticular family on hand when the meeting was 
opened. If, for any reason, sickness should keep 
them at home, everybody in meeting, from the eld- 
er down, was wondering what was the matter. A 
family of this kind in a neighborhood is always a 
power for good. 

Then I knew another family that was just the re- 
verse. When Saturday evening came they had no 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 117 

fixed purpose, unless it was to go visiting on Sun- 
day, or work up some excuse for not going to 
meeting. If they meant to have a good time on 
the Lord's Day they could be up bright and early on 
Sunday morning, fully prepared to carry out their 
purpose without a hitch. They often complained 
that they could not get ready in time to reach the 
Sunday School at ten, two miles away, but it never 
seemed a task for them to drive ten miles to the 
picnic, or the camp meeting in the grove. 

In appearance the father and mother looked like 
Christians. Seeing them driving along the road on 
Sunday morning, most any stranger would have re- 
garded them as devout church members. But their 
conduct and looks did not correspond, and often 
caused many remarks among the outside people as 
well as among the members of the church. Their 
neighbors knew, of course, that they belonged to 
the church, but never could understand just why 
they seemed to be so little interested in what was 
going on at the meetinghouse. They were never 
known to take anybody along to preaching, but 
would now and then take some of their neighbors 
with them to other places. 

The members of this family appeared to be guilty 
of no special sin, and yet they were no credit to 
the church. They belonged to the congregation, but 



118 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

were a very poor light to the world. In fact they 
were almost a hindrance to the cause, their influ- 
ence being mainly in the wrong direction. All of 
this was for the want of a fixed purpose to serve 
the Lord with a whole heart. 

c£* ?<7* c<5* 

John Wesley was known far and wide to be 
much opposed to the wearing of jewelry. On a cer- 
tain occasion a good sister took hold of a lady's 
hand, containing a number of rings, held it close to 
the eyes of the devout preacher and said : " Bro>. 
Wesley, what do you think of that? " Wesley pre- 
tended not to see the costly, diamond-set rings, but 
remarked, " That is a very pretty hand." The com- 
pliment passed upon the beautiful hand had its 
effect, for the lady went to one side, removed her 
rings, and reappeared with hands that no one needed 
to be ashamed of. Mr. Wesley knew howf to reach 
the lady's self-respect. And that is just wnat "some 
people need to learn today. Let them learn how the 
wrong-doing of persons may be pointed out in such 
a manner as to bring about the necessary reforma- 
tion, and the saving of the soul will have been ac- 
complished. 



The Wise Mother. 

It is not every mother who knows how to handle 
a boy, inclined to shirk duty, in such a way as to 
teach him lessons that he is not likely to forget. 
But now and then we hear of those who can handle 
a boy of this kind with consummate skill and at 
the same time retain the love and respect of the 
boy. When the ordinary boy is fairly beaten at his 
own game, he generally knows it, confesses his 
defeat, and in his own mind determines that he is 
never going to be caught napping again. I have 
in mind two instances worth relating. One came to 
my notice through the press, and the other I got 
by personal observation. 

Robbie's hat was lost ! He could not find it any- 
where, and his mother was waiting for him to go 
out and do an errand for her. 

" Hurry up, Robbie ! " she said, coming into the 
sitting-room. " I must have that yeast cake right 
away." 

" I can't find my hat," said Robbie, beginning to 
search in every nook and corner. " I guess, mam- 
ma, you will have to get somebody else to do that 
errand for you. I can't go down-town bareheaded." 

Just then a wagon drove into the yard, and Uncle 
Will's voice cried out : 

119 



120 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

"Where's Robbie? I want to take him out to 
the f arm." 

" Here I am, Uncle Will, I'm coming ! " cried 
Robbie. 

And what do you suppose? In less than two 
seconds Robbie's hat was on his head, and he was 
bounding out into the yard ! 

His mother could hardly help smiling at the sud- 
denness with which the little lad had found his hat 
after he really wanted to go ; but she knew that it 
would not doi to let his deceit go unpunished, so she 
hurried out into the yard. Robbie was just climbing 
up into the farm-wagon. 

" Uncle Will," said his mother, " Robbie was go- 
ing to do an errand for me, but it took him so very 
long to find his hat — until he heard you call — that 
I am afraid he will not be back in time to go out to 
the farm with you today." 

"Ah!" said Uncle Will; "I see. No, Robbie, I 
do not think I can wait for you today. But some 
other day, when your hat doesn't keep you from 
getting mamma's errands done first, we will have a 
fine ride out to the farm." 

Robbie felt his disappointment keenly. But he 
was an honest-minded boy, and by the time he had 
returned with his mother's yeast cake, he was quite 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 121 

ready to admit in his own heart that his punishment 
was just what he deserved. 

"And, mamma," he said, as he kissed her loving- 
ly, " I don't think I shall ever lose my hat that way 
again." 

Robbie had learned a lesson, and his good moth- 
er was just wise enough not to let him know that she 
had purposely outgeneraled him. 

The other instance was this : George was one of 
the best boys in the country to work. His home 
was on the farm, where there was plenty to do, and 
too much, he thought. Like most boys at the age 
of fourteen, he got very tired of the work, a little 
discouraged, thought he ought to have some rest, 
and made himself believe that he was sick. He 
quit his work and came to his mother with his com- 
plaint. She listened to his story, as a kind mother 
will listen to a boy who is in trouble. She told her 
son that it was not necessary for him to work if he 
was sick, that he probably needed rest, and that he 
should go up to his room, go to bed and remain 
there during the day. George did not like the idea 
of going to bed — for that was no part of his pur- 
pose when he decided to quit work and appeal to 
his mother. But she told him that there was no 
better place for a sick boy than in bed, and that he 
must not fail to do as she had directed. 



122 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

Well, George reluctantly went to his room and 
was soon snugly covered up in his comfortable 
bed. His mother waited on him kindly, and even 
politely, giving him a plentiful supply of the kind 
of tea that she knew to be just the thing for his ail- 
ment. What were George's thoughts all this time 
no one seems to know. But for once, at least, he 
made up his mind that his mother knew something 
about boys. The next morning found George at 
the breakfast table and his mother waiting on him 
as attentively as though the boy had just recovered 
from a spell of sickness. He resumed his work, a 
more cheerful and wiser boy, and never more tried 
to play sick in the presence of his wise and loving 
mother. 



Parents' Mistakes. 

It is an ill wind that blows no good, and, by the 
way, there are many ill winds, but it is a question 
as to whether the good that follows these winds will 
ever atone for the ills. On seeing the mistakes of 
his father or mother many a child has resolved to 
live a better life than that set forth in the examples 
left him to imitate. 

A father who loved his children well enough to 
provide for them all needed comforts came to the 
conclusion that his son should not spend much of 
his time reading. He was fearful that reading 
might lead the boy into indolent habits, and cause 
him to think more of his book than of his work. 
His highest idea of a boy was that he should be 
good and do plenty of work. The boy worked 
well, but he also loved books. He found them full 
of most excellent things to think and talk about. 
In fact he would work hard to get money to buy 
books, and then spend his evenings at home read- 
ing. This son did not like his father's idea of a 
boy, but he knew that it was his duty to obey, as far 
as possible, his earthly parent. 

He, however, resolved in his own mind that 
should he ever become a father he would not at- 
tempt to raise a boy in that way. He felt that boys 

123 



124 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

were boys, and he hoped that the time would never 
come when he would forget that he, too, had been a 
boy. He thought it would be so nice if his father 
would talk with him about what he was reading. 
He longed to tell some one the interesting things 
he found in books. It would be such a pleasure 
to tell his parents all about them, but he had no en- 
couragement in that direction, and so kept the in- 
formation gained largely to himself. Still, while 
loving his parents, he fully made up his mind to 
encourage the boys who loved to read good books. 
The mistake of his father prompted him to carry 
out his resolve more faithfully than he probably 
otherwise would have done. It was a case of some 
good from an ill wind. 

Another ill wind blew into the brain of a little 
girl a determination that she faithfully carried out 
when she reached the mature years of womanhood. 
Her mother was one of these faithful, hard-working 
women, but never thought of the consequences of 
sending her timid little daughter off to bed in a 
dark and uninviting room. The frightened little 
maiden would disrobe, jump into bed, thinking there 
might be something underneath, and crawl under 
the cover, head and all. Thus breathing the close 
air under the covers, she fell asleep. The child never 
grew brave, for she had no one to teach her how 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 125 

to retire, with no fear in the heart, but trusting the 
Lord. 

But the little girl, on reaching the years of wom- 
anhood, never made that mistake with her own little 
girls. It was her delight to make the going to bed 
as pleasant as possible for those who called her 
mother. She early taught them to prepare for retir- 
ing, for she thought the training would be for their 
good. She would then light them to bed, see that 
they were properly covered, kiss them good-night, 
and leave them smiling. They fell asleep with no 
unpleasant thoughts in their minds, and their dreams 
were sweet. These girls grew to womanhood with- 
out the thought of fear. They had a mother who 
knew that to send a child to bed with its mind 
filled with ill thoughts is a grave mistake. She 
made child life a study, and knew the importance 
of treating the little ones according to their nature 
and make-up. 



Entering Jerusalem* 

One beautiful Saturday morning, in company with 
others, I rode out of our camp in Palestine, de- 
scended a steep hill to the east, and then turned up 
a deep valley to the south. The ride in the fresh 
morning air was delightful. We were not only 
passing over ground made sacred by Bible events, 
but we were in 'a land made charming by the hills, 
valleys, plains and brooks. We were among the 
mountains of Ephraim, and were comforted with the 
thought that this was to be our last day on horse- 
back before reaching the Holy City. 

From the deep valley we ascended, passing up 
higher from first one fertile valley to. another, until 
the top of a lofty range was reached. Here our 
dragoman stopped, and we drew rein by his side. 
He then stretched his hand to the south and said, 
" Take your first look at the City of Jerusalem." 
Sure enough, there was the City of Jerusalem in the 
distance. I sat upon my horse and took a long 
look at the city made famous by Bible characters. 
Had it not been pointed out I would have recog- 
nized it at first sight, though sixteen miles away. 
The Mount of Olives on the east was plainly visible. 
Then between the city and the Mount I could also 
see the Valley of Jehoshaphat. Glancing to the 

126 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 127 

southeast there was the great Valley of the Jordan 
Spread out, stretching away to the south. The 
north end of the Dead Sea was in sight, while just 
below us, and about one mile to the south, was the 
little village of Bethel, where Jacob once slept and 
dreamed. Here he saw, in a vision, a ladder reach- 
ing from earth to heaven and the angels ascending 
and descending. 

Surely I was on holy ground, and could but look 
and think. I had traveled thousands of miles, both 
on the land and on the sea, that I might look upon 
the city made sacred to me by the lives of holy 
men and women. At the age of twelve years I had 
read my first account of the city, and had since 
read nearly everything treating of the place, on 
which I could lay my hands. For years I had 
longed to visit the Holy City, walk her streets and 
study her surroundings. 

And now, for the first time, my eyes beheld what 
was left of the once most charming city in the east- 
ern world. Was it a vision, or was it a reality ! It 
seemed almost like a vision in the night. It was 
near here that Jacob had the most comforting vision 
of his life. It left on his mind a picture that never 
faded. In the hours of distress he could close his 
eyes and behold the ladder and the angels. Mine 
was not a vision. It was a happy reality, and yet it 



128 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

left a picture that changes not, and is ever present. 
Our company rode down into the village of Beth- 
el, and then on to Jerusalem, the city being in sight 
most of the time. In the afternoon we reached a 
point just to the north of the Damascus Gate, leav- 
ing Calvary a few hundred feet to the east. Here I 
looked for the first time upon the place where 
wicked men crucified the Lord of glory. We prob- 
ably occupied the place where thousands stood that 
memorable Friday afternoon, and witnessed the 
greatest tragedy the world has ever known. Dark- 
ness fell upon the whole region, sadness filled the 
hearts of hundreds of earnest disciples, and sorrow 
reigned in heaven while the multitude stood and 
looked on in amazement. We rode away from the 
spot, and on that Saturday evening had the pleas- 
ure of entering the City of the Great King. May 
we all be so fortunate, in the evening of life, as to 
be permitted to enter the Jeusalem that is above! 



The Sunbonnet in Jerusalem. 

In company with others it was my privilege to 
spend Thanksgiving in Jerusalem in 1898. We oc- 
cupied pleasant quarters on the third floor of an ex- 
cellent hotel. Many a time have I passed up an 
easy flight of stairs to the flat roof for the purpose 
of looking over the city. The hotel stands near the 
Jaffa Gate, and the top commands a fine view of 
the greater part of Jerusalem. In a place like this 
one can profitably spend months reading and study- 
ing. The Bible student never seems to grow weary 
of the sacred associations. But now and then there 
are occurrences here, as well as elsewhere, outside 
of the usual, and we now refer to one of them. 

A large upper room in the hotel was prepared for 
the Thanksgiving services. Chairs were brought in 
from the different rooms and arranged together in 
church fashion, with an aisle on each side. In front 
was placed a neatly-covered table and a chair for 
the minister. Here and there the stars and stripes 
were displayed, and in a general way the room was 
made to look somewhat American-like. A number 
of Americans were stopping at the hotel, there were 
others in and about the city, and by the time they 
had gathered in the room we had a real respectable- 
looking audience. 

129 



130 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

The services were led by a Methodist minister of 
fine address, he being assisted by others. The talk 
was good, the song service inspiring, and the spirit 
of the gathering somewhat patriotic as well as reli- 
gious. It was a little remarkable that a purely 
American Thanksgiving service should thus be held 
on the northern section of Mt. Zion, near where 
once stood the marble palace of Herod the Great, 
and not far from the spot formerly occupied by the 
gilded palace of King Solomon. 

Reflections of this kind, however, were somewhat 
interrupted by the appearance of a plainly-attired 
and intelligent looking lady, wearing a real old- 
fashioned, brown sunbonnet. Her appearance im- 
mediately attracted my attention. Her bonnet was 
not like that worn by most of our sisters of today, 
but about such a bonnet as might have been seen in 
a well-regulated church thirty or forty years ago. I 
had seen no bonnets, save those worn by the sis- 
ters in our company, since leaving Sweden. In my 
own country I might have seen a bonnet of this 
kind in an audience and not thought much about it. 
But an old-fashioned split bonnet in Jerusalem 
aroused my curiosity. I was curious to know some- 
thing about the lady, and why she was in the Holy 
City. 

Later our company learned more concerning her. 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 131 

She formerly lived in Ohio, and was then a very 
proud woman, caring little for the self-denying re- 
ligion of Jesus. She felt herself called to work 
among the negroes in the South, and became fully 
convinced that the fashions of Paris and the religion 
of Jesus Christ did not blend, so she laid aside 
her finery, attired herself as she thought becoming 
a woman professing godliness, and then worked 
with a clear conscience. 

In time she found her way to Jerusalem, and was 
there working among the poor Jews, trying to con- 
vince them that Jesus is their long-expected and 
long-promised Messiah. Her humble home was 
among the poorer class. Here she lived, prayed 
and worked. So far as I could learn, she depended 
upon no missionary association for support. Her 
only trust was in the Lord. Now and then some 
money came her way, and on this she lived, devot- 
ing her entire time^ and strength to the good of 
those who looked up to her for spiritual help. 
Those who read this story will by it be reminded of 
the fact that there lived in Jerusalem at that time 
at least one woman who looked like an intelligent, 
devout and earnest American sister of the Brethren 
church. 



Closing the Door Behind Him. 

It was the first and only love feast Judas ever 
attended. He had been with the Master for more 
than three years. He was the trusted treasurer and 
steward of the little band of selected believers. He 
had heard Jesus preach hundreds of times, and such 
wonderful preaching no man ever heard before. 
Even the learned and gifted said, " Never man spake 
like this man." He had seen him perform scores 
of miracles, to the wonder and amazement of every 
beholder. He could not, it seems, help believing 
that his Master, as his disciples called him, was a 
supernatural being. 

At the end of three years the little group of 
disciples, twelve in number, assembled with their 
leader in an upper room in Jerusalem. It was prob- 
ably on Thursday evening, in the early part of April. 
A memorial meal had been spread upon the table, 
around which the thirteen had gathered. The cur- 
tains were down and the door was closed. The Mas- 
ter, to the amazement of his disciples, girded him- 
self with a towel, poured water into a basin, and 
washed and wiped the feet of each of them. This 
was a religious service which they could not at that 
time understand. It was the first love feast for all 
of them. Then followed the Lord's supper, a meal 

132 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 133 

that had been prepared for this special evening. 
It was the last meal that the Son of God ate with his 
followers while in the flesh. 

Near the close of this sacred meal Jesus aston- 
ished his disciples by what he said to Judas. Judas 
understood it, but the others did not. He arose, 
turned his back upon the Lord's table, walked out 
of the room, closed the door after him and disap- 
peared. The Christian world knows the fate of that 
man. His action threw a shadow over the quiet lit- 
tle meeting. Each of the remaining disciples won- 
dered what it meant. Why should Judas leave the 
room in the midst of the feast? Why should he 
walk out and close the door after him? That door 
was closed, nevermore to be opened by the man 
who had turned his back on the Lord's table. In 
vain they looked for the door to swing on its hinges, 
but the man never returned. Satan had entered into 
him, and he went to his doom. 

A few minute.s later Jesus blessed the bread repre- 
senting his broken body, and gave it to his disciples 
to eat. They ate it with sad forebodings of some 
mysterious fate awaiting their Master. The cup 
was passed in like manner. But Judas was not there. 
He alone of the twelve had been captured by Satan 
and led to his destruction. During the night he 
betrayed his holy Master, and before the ending of 



134 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

another day he closed his unfortunate life at the 
end of a rope. Such was the fate of the man who 
dared to turn his back on the Lord's table. Such 
was the end of the man who left the society of 
the saints, walked out of the room and closed the 
door behind him. Such was the doom of the man 
who permitted Satan to enter his heart and lead him 
astray. Better for that man had he never been bom. 
And so it is with those who do not keep their 
hearts bolted against Satan. If Satan once enters 
the heart of the believer, as he entered the heart of 
Judas, his doom is sealed. He will be induced to 
leave the society of holy people, to leave the heav- 
enly places in Christ Jesus, to turn his back upon 
the Lord's table and all the sacred institutions be- 
longing to the house of God, to walk out of the 
church, close the door behind him, and disappear 
in the sinful world. Sad indeed is the fate of such 
a man. 



The Mistake. 

I once made my home in a family for several 
weeks — where everything, to all appearances, went 
like clockwork. The family was composed of par- 
ents and two sons. They lived on one of the best 
improved farms in the country. The father was 
known far and wide as the model farmer of that part 
of the State. Not one thing was allowed to remain 
out of order on his premises. Every building and 
fence was kept in the very best state of repair. He 
had a place for each tool, and when not in use 
it had to be there. So far as orderly farming was 
concerned, he made it a decided success. 

He was noted as a strict church member, and it 
had to be very bad weather indeed if he was not 
found at his place in church. He was as strict with 
his boys as with himself. They not only had to at- 
tend church and Sunday School as regularly as the 
Lord's Day came round, but the Sunday had to be 
spent in each particular as he directed. His word 
was law, and it was a law that he did not hesitate to 
enforce whenever occasion demanded it. For miles 
around no> boys seemed so well trained as these two 
farmer boys. Under their father's ever watchful 
eye they kept within the bounds of propriety. 

Everybody congratulated the intelligent and suc- 

135 



136 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

cessful farmer for his success in raising an industri- 
ous and Christian family. Not a few envied him, 
and wished they could exert over their children the 
influence which he seemed to have over his. He was 
not only pronounced a model farmer, but he was re- 
garded as a wise and most successful parent. In 
the minds of most of his neighbors he was making 
family discipline a success in every particular. 

The years went rapidly by, and the boys soon 
reached manhood. When they were twenty-one, 
years old they felt that they were no more under 
their father. To them it seemed a decided relief. 
In a little while they were regarded as the wildest 
boys in the neighborhood. They became positively 
reckless. This surprised the parents no less than 
it surprised most people of the neighborhood. To 
them it became quite apparent that the man who 
had made a success as a farmer was a failure in his 
own household. He knew how to compel his boys 
to obey every word that came from his lips, but he 
knew not how to develop them. He succeeded in 
ruling them, but he had not trained them. Under 
his eyes they knew how to behave themselves, but 
when once cut loose from his authority they knew 
no restraint. 

Other parents are making the same mistake with 
their children, They think that enforced, ironclad 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 137 

rules will settle the whole question. They exact 
the strictest obedience, never once seeming to real- 
ize that cold, formal rules, as compared with intel- 
ligent training, are of no lasting value. Had this 
farmer spent more time in developing his boys, and 
less with his fine set of rules, the result might have 
been different. The principles of right doing should 
have been most thoroughly fixed in the minds of the 
boys, so that, when they grew to manhood, they 
would know how to apply them. The boys had been 
taught how to obey rules, but they had never 
been taught how to govern themselves. 
! No one ever saw this stern father engaged in an 
interesting conversation with his boys. He never 
consulted them, nor did he try to get them special- 
ly interested in his business. It was his privilege, so 
he thought, to command, and it was the boys' duty 
to obey. He did the commanding, the boys did the 
obeying, for they did not dare to do otherwise; but 
the results in the end were sad to contemplate. 
Every parent has a right to rule his children — in 
fact, it is his duty — but what is government without 
development? It is the father who gets close to the 
hearts of his children who makes family government 
a success. He requires obedience, but he thinks 
more of development and growth along right lines. 
It is what his children will be when they leave the 



138 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

parental roof that most concerns him. In the begin- 
ning he commences their training with the view of 
making men and women who will be a credit to their 
parents as well as a credit to the church and to the 
community. 

<£& «(£* «,$* 

When Christmas morning came, the outlook for an 
earnest minister and his dear ones was anything but 
encouraging. They were actually in want. Later in 
the day some of the members, in their Sunday attire, 
drove up. They were followed by others and by 11 
o'clock all the members, save a few of the old and 
feeble, along with a number of the neighbors, were 
at the preacher's house. They had baskets, buckets, 
sacks and other things, and very soon the minister 
and wife, to the joy and the comfort of their hearts, 
found themselves in possession of ample supplies for 
weeks. The callers had even brought their own din- 
ners, and had the minister and family eat dinner with 
them. After that there was a little meeting and the 
people went to their homes, not knowing what a 
dark cloud they had rolled back from their minister's 
home. To the minister the sky became clear. He 
could think better than before, work better and his 
sermon, the next Sunday, was full of life and hope. 



The Thorn Removed. 

The threshers were at Mrs. Style's on Monday, 
finishing their work in one day. The lady proudly 
informed her helpers that her extra grocery bill 
was several dollars. Her own well-stocked fruit 
closet could not supply her ambitious demand, and 
dried apricots, currants, prunes, peaches and raisins 
were purchased to make up the deficiency. Some 
one said she had fifteen different kinds and forms 
of fruit, but that seems a little stretched. However, 
the fruit, preserves, three kinds of pie, two varieties 
of cake and the same of cookies, cheese, celery and 
pickles so completely filled the table that the sub- 
stantial food, meat, vegetables, etc., had to be served 
from a side table. What was left, and could not be 
consumed by the family, had to be thrown away. 

The threshing was done on Monday, and all day 
Sunday the lady and her daughter baked and stewed 
for the morrow. Laying aside any consideration 
of the Lord's Day, was it sensible to make such an 
effort for the mere sake of display? This tired, 
overworked woman seldom bakes less than three 
kinds of pie on Saturday, and should Sunday find 
her with but one kind of pie, and unexpected com- 
pany, she promptly bakes more for dinner. She is a 
good, well-meaning woman, but an uncomfortable 

139 



140 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

hostess, and one who has no time for reading and 
very little for recreation. She, though a strong wom- 
an, has not only worked herself into a nervous con- 
dition, but makes her guests nervous. It makes one 
tired to be around her. 

Mrs. Sensible had different ideas about feeding 
hard-working men. She had the threshers the next 
Monday. Saturday she baked a goodly batch of 
cookies and a large loaf cake besides the one for 
Sunday dinner. She attended services on Sunday 
morning, rested in the afternoon, and Monday morn- 
ing found her ready for the fray. When the men 
went to the city for meat, she sent for bread, cheese, 
celery and ginger snaps. And with the help of two 
neighbors she had a dinner fit for a king, without 
disobeying the laws of nature or nature's God. Not 
only so, but it was restful to be in her presence. 
She seemed to take things easy, and yet nothing was 
neglected. 

A wide-awake woman has been watching .these 
things, and has made up her mind that there is no 
need of a woman making a slave of herself by pre- 
paring for company dainty things that serve no 
good purpose for either the stomach or brain. She 
says: "Threshers and unexpected guests were at 
one time my ' thorn in the flesh,' and, in my anxiety, 
it seemed to me they were, like the poor, ' always 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 141 

with us.' It occurred to me one day that much of 
the pleasure of life was being marred by the ques- 
tion which came to my mind at the first glimpse of 
arriving guests, 'What will I have to eat?' and 
I settled it then and there, that I would really be 
glad to see them by not straining myself to fur- 
nish a luxurious repast, but by giving them a good, 
square, welcome meal, and myself some time for 
visiting. It is a genuine pleasure to entertain in- 
telligent, wide-awake, thinking men and women, if 
our own ideas be not put absolutely to rout by the 
duties of hostess." This lady has solved the prob- 
lem. She enjoys her company, and her company 
is delighted with her. 



The Stolen Goose. 

A minister told a member of his congregation 
that she could not come to church because she had 
stolen a goose the day before, and had not returned 
it. The woman in reply said : " Do you suppose 
that I am going to let a little thing like a goose 
come between me and my Savior? " One hardly 
knows whether to frown on account of the woman's 
spiritual stupidity or to smile because of her inno- 
cent wit. True enough, a goose is a little thing to 
come between a Christian woman and her Savior, 
and yet, if it is a stolen goose, it becomes large 
enough to block the way to heaven. 

There are people who have no higher conception 
of Christianity than this misguided woman had. 
They would not think of permitting a little thing 
like a pack of cards to stand between them and 
their Master. They play cards, then go to church 
and sometimes sing like angels. There are others 
who will not allow their fine jewelry to come be- 
tween them and their blessed Jesus, as they say. 
They wear their costly diamonds and set off their 
persons with fine ornaments, pretending to think 
that they are pleasing the Lord. 

And, by the way, this thing of men and wom- 
en going on in their sins, doing this, that, and the 

142 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 143 

other thing, not in keeping with the letter and spirit 
of the Gospel, and, at the same time, trying to make 
it appear that they are worshiping God with all 
necessary sincerity and loyalty, is becoming a little 
serious. They say that they are not going to permit 
a little worldliness to come between them and their 
Savior, and yet it is there all the same. They may 
appear religious, may possibly die happy, still the 
stolen goose has never been returned. 

We pity the woman on account of her spiritual 
stupidity, but are there not thousands equally 
stupid? They may not have stolen, but they are 
violating some of the plain New Testament com- 
mands, and wholly disregarding others. They need 
to repent and do their first works over, else they 
may, at the judgment bar of God, find mountains be- 
tween them and their offended Master. 



Satan and Wealth. 

One time a very zealous church worker said to 
me that he wished he was a rich man. He would 
like to come into possession of millions of dollars. 
We have hundreds of people who would be pleased 
to have a few million dollars come their way, and 
some of them are doing their utmost to work up to 
the million-dollar point, but money is not accumu- 
lated by wishes. It takes more than mere wishes 
to produce dollars. But this earnest man said he 
did not want the money for his own use, for he 
would like to spend thousands of dollars to help 
poor churches. Certainly his motives were good, 
and some are made to wonder why the Lord does 
not help such men to make money by the million. 
They think he helps others to accumulate fortunes, 
and why not help those who want to do good with 
their wealth? 

It is altogether probable that the Lord is not 
helping very many of the millionaires to pile up 
their big fortunes. He may be helping some of them, 
but judging by the methods employed and what 
they are doing with their money, I cannot avoid 
concluding that the devil has more to do with many 
of the great enterprises than anybody else. I fur- 
ther believe that the devil does his utmost to keep 

144 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 145 

faithful and earnest gospel preachers as poor as 
possible. It is common for men of wealth to give 
the Lord credit for the property they have been per- 
mitted to accumulate. In many instances it would 
be far more consistent for them to give the devil 
credit for their prosperity. A man who employs dis- 
honorable methods to accumulate wealth is a child 
of Satan and not a child of God, and he should know 
that Satan, his father, rather than the Lord, is help- 
ing him to become rich. It is likely that Satan does 
not want a million dollars to find their way into 
the hands of the kind of men referred to in the 
beginning of this article. They would make too 
wise a use of their possessions. 

A rich man once told me that he was so thankful 
that the good Lord had blessed him with an abun- 
dance of this world's goods. I happened to know 
something about a few of his business transactions, 
and I certainly felt like telling him that in my judg- 
ment he should thank the devil for considerable of 
his wealth, for I was quite sure that the Lord could 
not sanction some of his work. The Lord helped 
Job as well as Abraham, and under the blessings of 
heaven they both became very rich, but I feel quite 
confident that he did not help Herod the Great to 
acquire his vast fortune. Nor does he help other 



146 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

rich men who employ dishonorable methods in the 
accumulation of millions. 

The way some people, and even church mem- 
bers, too, at that, employ their wealth, prompts 
me to conclude that the Lord surely has not given 
them their earthly possessions. They spend a whole 
life accumulating property, become immensely 
wealthy, and then pass out of this world without 
showing the least appreciation for the help they 
claim to have received from the Giver of all that 
is good. It occurs to me that the men and women 
who give freely for the Lord's work are the ones 
whom the Lord has been blessing and helping, and 
it would be easy to name a number of consecrated 
people who made the wisest possible use of their 
wealth while living, and left much to be employed 
for good purposes after being called to their re- 
ward. But, candidly, I am not able to understand 
why the Lord should help a man accumulate a great 
fortune merely for his own selfish use, and then to 
turn it over to the world after he is done with it. 
Possibly the devil has more to do with making rich 
men than some of us have been led to think. 



The Clock Not Started. 

On the top of my office desk is a small nickel 
clock, which is wound every morning. Every 
Monday morning it is necessary to set the clock as 
well as wind it, for during Sunday it runs down. 
One Monday morning I wound the clock and set it 
as usual, and went on about my work. Some time 
later I glanced up at the clock and observed the 
hands were where I had placed them an hour or 
more before. Then I noticed that the clock was 
not running. It then occurred to me that while I 
had wound the clock and set it right, still I had 
failed to start it. To myself I said, " Just like some 
church members, — set right, made ready for a long 
run, but never started." 

I got to thinking, and wondered whose fault it is 
that so many members are standing still. Some 
used to run well, but they stopped for some cause, 
and did not get started again. I have known some 
of them to appear before the church, and apparently 
be set right before the public as well as before the 
church, but for some cause they did not run; they 
could not be induced to keep time with the church 
and her work. Yes, they did, one time, run well. 
Some force hindered them, and now, in the spiritual 
life, there is no activity. 

147 



148 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

When I saw my clock was not running I took it 
down, gave it a good shake, set it right again and 
then it went on doing its duty. I do not mean to 
say that people who live and do nothing always 
need a shaking up, but they certainly need some- 
thing more than a mere letting alone. They need 
to be started in the Lord's work, and it is one of 
the puzzling questions, sometimes, to know just how 
to start them. Jonah, on a certain occasion, had a 
little experience, down deep in the sea, that started 
him in the right direction, and he kept going until 
he reached Nineveh, where the Lord had a special 
work awaiting him. 

People are sometimes converted, as we call it. 
They come into the church, and, so far as outward 
appearances are concerned, seem to be just right. 
But they do not run. By them the name of God is 
not glorified. They are just the same today that 
they were when they came into the church a year 
ago. There has been no progress, and no advance- 
ment in the Christian life. Judged by the standard 
of a babe in Christ Jesus, they may be all right, but 
they do not grow to manhood in the Lord's cause. 
They were apparently all right in the beginning, 
but they never got started. Some of them never 
got started to giving thanks at the table for their 
daily bread. They know nothing of the family 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 149 

altar, and cannot be depended upon to help forward 
the Lord's work. Surely, they are just like my 
clock; set all right, wound up, apparently ready for 
usefulness, but do not run. I verily believe that 
they need a shaking up. 

I have known ministers to be fully prepared for 
active duty. All the necessary authority was giv- 
en them; they were wisely instructed and then left 
to carry forward the Lord's work. But they did 
not move out, they did not preach. They never 
got started, and years later they were, so far as use- 
fulness is concerned, just where the installation 
services left them, — set right, wound up with all 
necessary authority to preach the Word but not 
started. . 

Well, whose fault is it that all these people are 
not started? Is it their own fault, or is it the fault 
of some one else? A persecution at Jerusalem one 
time started a certain number of the brethren oul 
into the world to preaching the Gospel. On a cer- 
tain occasion the Macedonian call started Paul. 
But must all preachers be started in this way? 
Must something of this kind be depended upon to 
start into work the babes in Christ? Or may not 
the fault lie at the door of those whose duty it is 
to look after the flock? Some of us are very much 
disposed to have all the members accord with the 



150 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

Gospel in matters relating to the externals, but are 
we doing just the right thing by not attempting to 
find work for them? Must we spend all of our 
time and energies trying to get the church ready 
for work? Verily, whose fault is it that the clock 
has not been started? 

«5* <<$* %£• 

In an address to a class of young ministers 
Bishop Fowler recently said, " Laziness is a foe 
against which the minister must vigilantly stand 
guard. The preacher should put as much energy 
into his work as the average business man does 
into his, if he means to succeed." And the Bishop 
was right. Spiritual, intellectual indolence and phys- 
ical indolence are foes to be dreaded in the ministry. 
A preacher has no more right to expect that God 
will bless a carelessly-prepared, unstudied, poorly- 
delivered sermon, than a merchant has to expect a 
profit from goods that are of wretched material and 
badly made. Our best is what the Lord wants in the 
pulpit, and nothing less; and it is only when that 
standard has been conscientiously reached and main- 
tained that we are entitled to ask that it be made a 
blessing to others. 



Driven from Home. 

In the treatment of their children parents some^ 
times make mistakes that follow them to their 
graves. They do things that are inhuman, unchris- 
tian and sometimes cruel. They do not mean to 
make mistakes of this sort, but they permit them- 
selves to be influenced by their passions. Judg- 
ment, for the time, is dethroned; love feels outraged, 
and the unwise act is committed. 

We have in mind a bright young woman. Her 
parents were devout and well-to-do members of an 
influential church. The young woman, after careful 
study and without any undue persuasion, decided to 
apply to the Brethren church for membership. Her 
father told her if she carried out her purpose, she 
would have to seek another shelter. On a day set for 
the purpose, and in the presence of a large assem- 
bly of sympathetic people, she was buried with 
Christ in the rite of holy baptism. The scene was 
both beautiful and impressive, for all the people 
knew the young lady to be a well-educated, pious 
and refined woman. 

Later in the day she returned to her father's well- 
furnished and cozy residence only to find her parents 
ready to execute the unreasonable and unhuman 
threat they had made. The kind-hearted daughter 

151 



152 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

was told that the home was hers no more; that she 
should take her few belongings and seek another 
roof, never to return until she gave up the religion 
that she had embraced. 

It was a sad day for the young sister. She had 
no thought of surrendering the faith that she had 
publicly accepted in the forenoon. Taking what she 
could bear away, she went from the cozy room that 
had always been her own, leaving behind all that 
was near and dear in her parental home, and, in a 
sense, became a wanderer among those not of her 
own kindred in the flesh. But she found friends 
ready to help and cheer her, and soon had work for 
her hands and head. 

Years came and went, but she remained the 
same earnest, dutiful, intelligent, pious and diligent 
Christian through all of her experience. There was 
a place for her in the Sunday School, and she filled 
it to the full measure. People learned to love her, 
they wept when they learned of her sad home ex- 
periences, but not an unkind word ever escaped her 
lips regarding her parents. She married, became the 
mistress of a pleasant home and the mother of happy 
children. 

Time softened the hearts of her parents, and 
there came a day when they could stand it no long- 
er. They saw their mistake and wept bitterly, but 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 153 

it was impossible to erase the sad past from their 
memories. They felt that they had not only made 
the mistake of their lives, but had actually driven 
the sunshine from their home. They could repent 
and ask pardon, and this they did. A letter was writ- 
ten, showing marks of the tears of regret. A more 
penitent letter could not have been sent to the far- 
away daughter, whose cup of joy was thereby made 
full to overflowing. 

Now the daughter is once more looked upon as a 
loving member of the family, and, should she be per- 
mitted to again return to the scenes of her child- 
hood, will be shown the room from which she was 
barred when only a babe in Christ. The breach 
is closed, never more to be opened, but the pain- 
ful past will cling to the memory of these parents 
until their dying day. They have been forgiven both 
on earth and in heaven, but there is nothing that can 
wipe the sad experience of ten years from memory's 
tablet. 

In all this there is a moral for every parent. They 
may, at times, feel that a child is walking contrary 
to their wishes, but let them ever bear in mind that 
the driving of a son or daughter from under the roof 
of its parents is a fearful undertaking in the eyes 
of both God and man. • 



The Bible Our Neighbors Read. 

The daily lives of the church members are about 
the only Bible some people ever read. Instead of 
reading the Acts of the Apostles, they read the 
"Acts of the Church Members." They may not 
know much about the Gospel according to St. Mat- 
thew, but they can sit for hours and tell what they 
know about the " Gospel according to Deacon 
Jones." They may never have heard of Paul's First 
Epistle to the Corinthians, but they can quote by 
the hour from the living epistles too well known in 
their immediate neighborhood. The New Testa- 
ment Book of Revelation is a mystery to them, but 
not so with the revelations about the different 
church members they meet almost daily. 

You quote Scriptures to these people and they 
will quote ten times as much from some of 
the " living epistles " in their own neighborhood. 
What care they for the Gospel according to St. 
Mark when the Gospel according to Deacon Smith 
contradicts it at every point? You may refer them 
to the Acts of the Apostles to show them how peo- 
ple were converted. They simply refer you to the 
acts of the church members, to show to you how 
many of the present converts now live. Talk to 
them about the Bible. They cannot understand it, 

154 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 155 

but they can understand the conduct of a half- 
dozen church members when they do not live up to 
their profession. And when the minister quotes 
from the Book of Revelation, concerning the end of 
the world and the destiny of the wicked, they can- 
not help thinking about the revelations that have 
just come to them regarding the conduct of this, 
that and the other church member. Let the minis- 
ter preach a sermon on the purity of the heart, or a 
heart work, and probably one-third of his hearers 
will begin thinking about some hearts whose purity 
they gravely doubt. Tell the people about the in> 
portance of plainness in attire. Quote them Scrip- 
ture on the subject and they will begin quoting 
from the "Acts of the Church Members" on the 
same question. The quotations will not harmonize, 
and in the minds of not a few a quotation from the 
latter will go farther than one from the former. 
And so on to the end of the list. 

Well, what is to be done? There is no denying 
the quotation from the " Gospel according to Dea- 
con Jones," or from the epistle, known and read of 
all men. The facts are there. There is no chance 
for a revision. These late walking gospels and liv- 
ing epistles stand in the way of the people. They 
point one way, and the New Testament points an- 
other. Here is a problem, and about the only way to 



156 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

solve it is to bring about some new and radical 
conversions. Jesus told Peter, "When thou art 
converted, strengthen thy brethren." That is the 
doctrine we need to teach to every man and wom- 
an who does not live and walk orderly before the 
Lord. If sinners will pay more attention to the lives 
of the members than to the New Testament itself, 
and we know they do, then we must give them a 
better class of members to read. They must have 
better living epistles, and acts of members that will 
not mislead them. We need members who can sin- 
cerely say, " Be ye followers of me, even as I 
also am of Christ." Of course we do not want mem- 
bers to talk just that way, but they ought to be 
such that even a sinner could point to one of them 
and say, " Behold an Israelite, indeed, in whom is 
no guile." We should have men and women who 
are going on to perfection, — people who can be 
examples to others. 

With people of this class we can accomplish the 
more good, for the sinner could then go on read- 
ing the Gospel according to Bro. Jones and Sister 
Smith, and be benefited. After reading the New 
Testament a heathen at one time said, " The Book 
is all right," and then added, " The Book is better 
than the Christian." The trouble lies in the fact 
that we live too far below the Book, and that weak- 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 157 

ens our influence. Not long since we conversed 
with a physician on religious subjects. He remarked, 
" If the Christian people would live up to their 
profession they would soon have all such fellows as 
myself in the church, and it would not take a re- 
vival to bring us." While this condition will not 
exonerate the doctor at the judgment, it does show 
how much the cause of Christ is crippled by those 
who do not walk blameless before God and man. 

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At the wedding in Cana of Galilee the best wine 
came last. This was because Jesus made it. But 
with Jesus it was the best all the while. He never 
preached a poor sermon. He made no mistake in 
any of the miracles he performed. One was just as 
well done as the other. When he made bread and 
fish for the five thousand the people had not a word 
of complaint about the food he furnished them. 
They never ate better bread and probably never tast- 
ed better fish. Then, too, his life was the highest 
type. His conversation was not only holy, but it 
was highly instructive. As a teacher there was no 
one his equal in all the world. And so it was with 
the religion he taught. It was the best then, and is 
the best yet. 



The Sunday Dinner. 

Once upon a time, after preaching to a most at- 
tentive congregation, the preacher's wife said I 
should go to their home for dinner. The drive was 
a pleasant one, just as most country drives are in 
midsummer. The sister was not long about prepar- 
ing the meal, nor did she seem tired and worn out 
when the guests were shown their seats in the din- 
ing-room. After thanks, I glanced over the table, 
and noticed that, while there was plenty on the 
table, there were but two warm dishes to be seen. 
All the other dishes were cold. The food was well 
prepared, and everything, table linen and all, seemed 
neat and tidy. 

The wife took her seat at the table and enjoyed 
the meal with her guests. There was no passing 
from the table to the kitchen to bring more to eat. 
There was no serving of special dishes at the 
close. There was no urging of the visitors to eat 
several kinds of cake, a few pieces of pie and a 
dish or two of rich dessert after we thought we 
had eaten a fair meal. It was all on the table, one 
plain cake and the other dishes referred to. We ate 
and talked. So did the husband, wife and guests. 
It was simply a good, plain, substantial Sunday 
dinner, — a dinner that had not cost much, did not 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 159 

take long to prepare and one that answered its 
purpose in every particular. 

I enjoyed the meal, the conversation and the sim- 
plicity of the occasion. After it was all over I felt 
that I had not been the cause of a preacher's wife 
desecrating the Lord's Day by overtaxing her 
strength to get a big dinner for the visiting preach- 
er and the other company. Then I fell to wondering 
why other women cannot get into the habit of pre- 
paring sensible, wholesome and economical Sunday 
dinners. I wondered why it cannot be arranged for 
the women to have some rest on the Lord's Day, 
even if they do happen to have company. Here 
were only two freshly-cooked dishes, and one of 
them I did not need to touch, for there was plenty 
on the table besides, to satisfy a hungry man. There 
were also a few cold dishes and they were palatable. 
Lemonade took the place of tea and coffee, and, as 
a rule, makes a more wholesome drink. 

I thought, Why should the woman make a Sun- 
day slave of herself in order to get her visitors 
a much larger meal than they really need? Why 
must she work an hour or two over the hot stove, 
then remain on her feet, waiting on the table, while 
her friends are eating; when they retire, sit down 
alone, warm and tired, eat a hasty dinner, and 
then use up the rest of her strength cleaning up the 



160 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

dishes and table, and make herself so tired that she 
will not be in a condition to enjoy her company? 

I asked again, Is this the right way to spend the 
Lord's Day? Is this the way to treat the hard-work- 
ing wives or servants either? Do the people of 
God, who have much to say about Gospel simplicity, 
want to encourage this way of living? Do they want 
their influence to be cast on that side of the Sun- 
day question? If we believe in the simple and 
sensible life, why not practice it on Sunday as well 
as other days? Why should sensible Christian wom- 
en attempt to excel each other with big Sunday 
dinners? Then, to think of it, some of them stay 
at home from church just to cook an elaborate 
dinner for company ! 

The better way is the simple meal that requires 
but little work. Two or three warm dishes ought 
to be enough, A few cold dishes, prepared the day 
before, will help. Let no one say the table was 
made to groan beneath its burden of rich food. 
Offer the guests plain nourishment, serve it in a 
simple way, give the good wife a chance to rest 
and enjoy the meal as well as her company, and 
in the end God will be glorified and people will 
not so often be called on to make a god of their 
appetite. We insist on simplicity in our lives, in 
our attire and our everyday life. Now let us be 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 161 

consistent enough to practice at our Sunday dinners 
what we preach. 

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Brother Jones is a real earnest Christian man, but 
now and then becomes a little eccentric. People will 
laugh a little at some of his odd ways, but not at 
his charity. One day he throws a sack of potatoes 
in his spring wagon, a ham, and a bushel of the best 
apples in the orchard. He asks his wife to go with 
him, and they drive down the lane, getting a sack of 
flour and some groceries as they go by the store at 
the crossroads. A half hour later they stop at a little 
house by the side of the road. Here lives a poor 
but earnest sister. She is left alone in the world. 
She toils hard to keep the wolf from the door, and 
just at this time has neither money nor food. Bro. 
Jones finds a place in the cellar for the potatoes and 
apples, and the other things are carried into the 
small pantry by the side of the kitchen. Two happy 
people drive back to their farm home, while a pale 
little woman goes into her closet to pray and shed 
tears of joy. 



The Mother and the Daughter. 

It was my first visit to the brick meetinghouse. 
I enjoyed the sermon very much, and made a few 
remarks myself. I was much pleased with the 
hearty greeting I received after meeting. When 
one is from home, it does his soul good to find 
kindred spirits. I accepted an invitation to dine 
with one of these good old deacons. His wife seemed 
the perfection of kindness. She introduced me to 
their daughter, a real intelligent young lady. I was 
pleased to find such an entertaining daughter in a 
brother's family. As we drove down the pike, she 
seemed perfectly delighted with some good steps 
taken by the District Meeting, just then over. 

The carriage had hardly stopped in front the com- 
modious house, till she was out, and passed up the 
graveled walk on a run. By the time I reached 
the house with her mother, she had the fire in the 
base-burner in a perfect glow, for it was yet cool, 
and was ready to take my overcoat and hat, and 
helped me to the best rocking-chair in the house. 
For one solid hour she entertained me in a real, 
brilliant way. She understood music, history, had 
a good stock of general information, and knew 
almost as much about the Brotherhood and our 
leading writers and preachers as I did. Her father 

162 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 163 

seldom said anything, though he seemed interested. 
All the while I could hear the quick steps of the 
mother in the kitchen. I must confess that I did 
not altogether enjoy the conversation, for somehow 
I thought that the young lady ought to be out in 
the kitchen, helping her mother. 

When we walked out into the dining-room and I 
saw that good old mother wiping the perspiration 
from her face and neck with that long blue apron, 
I could not help pitying her. The table was liter- 
ally piled full of good things. While eating it oc- 
curred to me that it would have looked a great deal 
better if the young woman could have prepared the 
meal, and let the good old mother have a little rest. 
Possibly the meal might not have been as well got- 
ten up, and then, possibly, the mother could not 
have entertained me so well. However, let that be 
as it may, one thing is certain, if I had been a 
young man, looking for a wife, I believe I would 
never have stopped at that place. Somehow, I have 
very little confidence in daughters who will not 
help their mothers, and will not do what they can 
to make their burdens lighter. 



The Child's Commentary. 

In nine cases out of ten the father and mother are 
the commentaries by which their small children in- 
terpret the Holy Scripture. They soon learn that 
their parents belong to the church, and are not long 
in falling in with their ways of thinking. They at 
once favor the church where father and mother 
worship, and, as they advance in years, imbibe, to a 
certain extent, the doctrine held by them. 

By and by the children begin to study their par- 
ents. They will commence studying their parents 
before they read the Bible. They know that they 
belong to church, that they hold to certain doc- 
trines, believing that a certain thing is right, and, 
on the other hand, that another thing is wrong. 
The time was when the children thought what their 
father and mother believed was all right, but as 
they grow still older and their minds become more 
mature, they look at things differently. They won- 
der whether this, that, and the other thing, are really 
right! It does not look just that way to them. 
They wonder whether it is in keeping with the 
teachings of the New Testament, and on learning 
that it is not, it is a question in their minds whether 
to denounce the book or to doubt the sincerity of 
their parents. 

164 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 165 

For years — while younger — they had been inter- 
preting the Bible by their parents. To them their 
mother had been a walking commentary. Their 
father had served as a guide post, pointing in the 
direction leading to heaven and happiness. But 
now they are reading father and mother closer. 
They see in their conduct something they never 
specially noticed before. They hear them use by- 
words and sometimes other words not becoming a 
devout Christian. Then they talk unkindly about 
their neighbors. They frequently abuse, or rather 
talk abusively of some of the members in the 
church. They may even say some hard things about 
the preachers, and also about the elder, whose 
dealings are not at all times above question. They 
notice that their parents lack in religious zeal, as 
well as in devotion to the church and her work. 
At meeting they sometimes hear father or mother 
pray, but at home never. At church they often see 
them singing like angels, but at home hear them 
scold and say many unkind things. 

The commentary that first delighted and encour- 
aged them has now proved a puzzle. Must they 
lose faith in their parents, or must they lose faith in 
the Bible? If they lose faith in their parents, then 
the early living commentary is gone. It can no 
more be a help to them in religion. If they sur- 



166 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

render the Bible, then they look upon their parents 
as having been deceived, and religion can have no 
consideration upon their part. They have become 
skeptical, and are hopelessly lost. All this is due to 
the unfaithful lives of their parents. 

How much better it would be for their children 
could parents only set before them the true light! 
Blessed is the child whose father or mother is a 
true and reliable commentary on the New Testa- 
ment. They early learn to read their parents. They 
learn this long before they can read anything in 
the Bible. Now, if, in after-years, they find the 
manner of life of their parents in perfect harmony 
with the teachings of the Sacred Volume, then they 
will have confidence, not only in those who brought 
them into the world, but also in the Book. Parents 
need only study this subject in order to understand 
its bearing on the rising generation. They can see 
how their conduct may lead to the salvation of 
their children or may be the means of driving them 
farther away from the kingdom. May God help all 
the parents truly to- become living epistles — living 
commentaries — for the guidance and comfort of 
their children. 



The Mind: Its Care. 

Did you ever walk through a fine apple orchard 
and admire the fruitful trees? Have you not seen 
these trees covered with bloom and, later on, hang- 
ing full of fruit? Then, have you not visited the or- 
chard again, and been charmed by the tinted leaves 
and large, delicious apples? Have you not stood 
beneath the outspreading branches of some favorite 
tree and counted the large, ripe apples lying on the 
ground? Did you not, at the same time, notice some 
decayed fruit? ! Did you take the pains to count 
such apples? More especially, did you eat any of 
the decayed fruit? Certainly not. That was sen- 
sible. That is the way all fair-minded people do. 
They admire the beautiful, and eat that which is 
good. They never would think of eating a rotten 
apple. They might possibly gather them up and cast 
them into the ditch, but they could never be in- 
duced to make use of them, or even to ask anybody 
else to do so. 

That is the right way to treat the body. The 
Lord never intended that people should put partly 
decayed fruit into* their stomachs. Why not be 
thus wise regarding the care of the mind? The 
world is full of good things to think about. There 
are good books and papers everywhere. In nature 

167 



168 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

there is much to admire and think about. Then, 
why feast upon the evil and the unpleasant? Why 
spend hours and even days, rolling evil thoughts 
over and over in the mind, as though they were 
sweet morsels? True, evil things are about us. 
We cannot help noticing them. But why not dis- 
pose of them, as we would get rid of decayed fruit, 
and then go on thinking about the good, the noble, 
the beautiful and the uplifting? 

Decayed fruit in the stomach will soon ruin it. 
Next will come disease, followed by a painful death. 
The same unwise treatment may lead to a troubled 
mind and an unhappy life. The wise man takes 
care of his body. He knows that it is the only one 
he is ever going to get in this world. But he is not 
always so careful regarding the care of his mind. 
He fills his mind with unpleasant thoughts, and then 
wonders why he must all the time be worried with 
the evil of this world. He is like the foolish man — 
if one so foolish could be found — -who whiles away 
his time in his charming orchard, feasting on de- 
cayed fruit. 

In this wicked world we cannot avoid coming in 
contact with evil. Sin and misfortune must be en- 
countered, but they should be disposed of. At least 
we should not permit the mind to feast upon such 
thoughts. To do so will not be good for the mind, 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 169 

neither will it produce happiness. It requires time, 
attention and great care to supply the stomach with 
healthful food. This is true of the needs of the mind. 
He who would have a healthful, useful, happy, pure 
and contented mind must give it even more atten- 
tion than he gives his stomach or his body. A pure 
mind might possibly exist in a neglected body, but 
a spotless soul will not go hand in hand with a will- 
fully neglected mind. 

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To Peter Jesus once said, " Feed my lambs," By 
this he meant that Peter should take good care of 
the young members of the flock. And what was said 
to Peter is meant for every minister in the list of 
the faithful. Jesus is especially concerned about the 
young members of the church. He wishes them well 
fed upon the sincere milk of the Word, that they 
may grow and become strong. Should any of them 
be led astray, they are to be looked after and led 
back to the flock. All of this should be done care- 
fully and tenderly. In the work of caring for the 
young the elders and ministers are to take the lead. 
That is, they should make it their life duty to look 
after the young. They need fatherly counsel and 
motherly tenderness. 



Giving Up the Semicolon. 

Henry Clay Trumbull, for years editor of the Sun- 
day School Times, while always kind, fairly pliable 
and reasonable in the end, had notions of his own, 
and sometimes he clung to them with considerable 
tenacity, even when confronted by others in whose 
judgment he had much confidence. He was much 
given to the use of the semicolon, in his writings, 
and sometimes used it where the comma more 
properly belonged. One day his proofreader called 
his attention to the wrong use of the semicolon, 
telling him that the comma should be employed in- 
stead. He chose to differ with her, though she was 
an expert at the business and had been reading 
proof for him for years. The matter happened to 
come up again and the managing editor took sides 
with the proofreader. Mr. Trumbull stood by his 
semicolon, arguing the case with both of them. 
Becoming a little agitated he put on his hat and 
started out, but before closing the door behind 
him, said, in his emphatic way, that he would give 
up editorial work on the paper before he would give 
up that semicolon. After walking around awhile, 
he returned, looking perfectly reconciled, and said 
to his proofreader and managing editor that he had 
decided to give up the semicolon. 

170 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 171 

But the semicolon people are not all dead yet, nor 
are they disposed to give up their semicolon. They 
get pet notions and hang to them as though their 
very life and prosperity depended upon some partic- 
ular way of doing or looking at things. It is well 
for Christian men and women to cling to principles 
with all reasonable firmness, but when it comes to 
methods, in which the judgment of others may be 
of value, it will be found exceedingly unwise to per- 
sist in having our own way, regardless of results. 
Many a man has sacrificed much for a pet notion 
that was of no special value. This has been the case 
in matters pertaining to domestic and business mat- 
ters as well as in religious matters. Men have been 
known to give up the church rather than surrender 
some pet notion of little consequence. Families have 
been divided and broken up because of a few pet no- 
tions. Some of these pet notions have severed the 
strong ties of friendship, and it is to be feared that 
some of them have kept people out of heaven. It 
will often be found wise to do like Mr. Trumbull, — 
decide to give up the semicolon. 



Clean Hands. 

The law of Moses directed that those commit- 
ting adultery should be stoned to death. One time 
a woman was caught in the act of committing this 
sin. By some of the scribes and Pharisees she was 
brought before the Savior and her sin reported. 
They knew what the law required, but they wanted 
to see what Jesus would do with the woman. This 
they did to tempt him. 

He gave them plenty of time to think and then 
said : " He that is without sin among you, let him 
first cast a stone at her" (John 8: 7). In other 
words, You can do as Moses directed, but the first 
stone must be cast by a man who has clean hands. 
Each man was left to settle the question for himself, 
and not one of the accusers would admit that his 
hands were clean enough to cast the first stone. 

Among the Hindus there is a fable illustrating 
this lesson. A thief "was captured with stolen 
money in his hand and sentenced to die. The night 
before his execution he devised this novel plan for 
rescue: He called the jailer into his cell and said, 
' Go tell the king that if I can come to him, I can 
tell him how to grow gold. 5 The news was carried 
to the king and he said, ' Let the culprit be brought 
before me.' When the thief entered the royal pres- 

172 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 173 

ence he produced a piece of gold and said, ' Your 
majesty, if this piece of gold be planted in the soil 
it will grow into a tree, every branch of which will 
be laden with gold as an orchard with fruit. But 
this golden seed must be planted by a hand which 
has never been stained by a dishonest act. Of 
course, I am a thief and cannot plant this seed. My 
hand is not clean, so I pass it to your majesty/ The 
king looked at the gold for a moment, then he said, 
4 I would plant it if I could, but alas ! my hand is 
not clean; I will pass it to my prime minister.' 
The prime minister's hand was not clean, so he 
passed it to the governor of the citadel. The gov- 
ernor's hand was not clean, and he passed it to the 
high priest. The high priest's hand was not clean, 
and he passed it on to another. Thus the golden 
seed went from hand to hand. Then the thief said, 
* Your majesty, if no> man's hand is clean, why 
should I alone die for the crime? ' ' You are right,' 
said the king. ' If you are to die then I must die 
also.' " 

All around us are people who make it their busi- 
ness to pass judgment on those who make mistakes, 
while they themselves have unclean hands. We 
sometimes see this in council meetings. Members, 
with hands not wholly clean, persist in having others 
set right. They plead for a pure church and an up- 



174 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

right membership, while their own hands are 
stained. It is proper to have those who sin to re- 
pent and be set right before the church and the 
community, but how becoming it would seem if 
those who lead out in a move of this sort would 
first wash their own hands! And until they can do 
this, let them not cast the first stone, nor be too 
forward about planting the golden seed that pro- 
duces the golden fruit. Even the sinner admires 
clean hands, and God demands them. Only clean 
hands will be permitted to receive the clear title 
to mansions in the skies. 



Grandfather. 

Grandfather had seen better days. I mean the 
one to whom we refer at this time. He was once a 
strong young man, full of life and with bright pros- 
pects before him. He took to himself the maid 
whose heart and hand he had won. They were 
poor, but they were happy. They had few troubles 
and dreamed of none. Life with them was full 
of sunshine and the outlook hopeful. They looked 
forward to the time when they could possess a com- 
fortable home and have about them plenty on which 
to live, and also a place where they could spend the 
declining years of life. 

! Their first house was small, consisting of but one 
room. And yet it was large enough for the young 
father, mother, and two little girls. As the years 
went by other rooms were added, and then there 
were more children. Trees were planted, and in 
time the buildings, the orchard and shade trees 
gave the little knoll, by the side of the country 
road, a most charming appearance. The fond par- 
ents did not neglect their religion while accumulat- 
ing wealth, but they did, in a measure, neglect the 
best interests of their children. One by one their 
sons and daughters were sent off to school. They 
did not select schools particularly favored with 

175 



176 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

religious environments. The children were well 
educated, and thus fitted for society and business, 
but not for the Lord's house. The soul culture had 
been neglected, and not one of them was a member 
of the church. Considerable property passed into 
their hands, and, so far as the world was concerned, 
they were in excellent circumstances. 

There came a change. The father and mother 
grew old. Their eyes grew dim and their strength 
failed them. The home farm was turned over to a 
son-in-law, and the parents were to be contented 
with a home with, their daughter. The daughter, of 
course, was kind, and so were all the grandchildren. 
But the home was not as in days of yore. It ceased 
to be a lodging place for the Brethren who 
chanced to visit the locality. There was a time 
when this good man and wife could count on enter- 
taining all the ministers who visited their church. 
Their roof had sheltered some of the most gifted 
preachers, in the Fraternity. But that had come to 
an end. The daughter and her family moved in 
fashionable society, and by this the aged father and 
mother were in a measure cut off from the society 
of the church. They often wept. They had hoped 
that their last years might be their most enjoyable 
ones. But such was not the case. They saw their 
mistake. They had raised their children for the 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 177 

world, and not for the church. It was too late to 
make amends. They could only weep and wait for 
the boatman to come and row them across the chilly 
waters to the other shore. 

By and by a minister was sent for. The neigh- 
bors gathered. There was to be a funeral. The 
boatman had come for grandmother. It seemed 
that loving hands could not do enough for the dead 
mother. No expense was spared. The coffin was 
fine. The hearse was the best to be had. The cas- 
ket was covered with costly flowers. Grandmother 
never had so much respect shown her. The minis- 
ter grew eloquent, the sons and daughters wept. 
The grandchildren cried, and even the neighbors 
shed tears. All this was for the dead. The poor 
woman was cold in death, and could not realize 
what was being done for her. The aged husband 
wept and sobbed. He said nothing, but he thought, 
" If only half this affection had been bestowed upon 
mother while living, how pleasant life would have 
been to her ! " To the angels it probably looked 
like mockery. 

Grandfather was left alone. Scores reached for his 
hand and said words that were meant to be consol- 
ing. He leaned on the arm of a daughter as he looked 
down into the cold grave ; then was gently led away. 
For a few days each one of the family acted as an 



178 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

angel of love. No grandfather was ever treated 
more kindly. Time, however, moved them all farther 
away from the sad incident, and inside of a few 
months the scenes at the funeral and grave seemed 
to have been forgotten. The gray-headed father 
sank into despondency. No one appeared to take 
any special interest in him. Not only so, but he 
seemed to be in the way. His room was wanted 
for another purpose. The family desired to enter- 
tain more, but grandfather was in the way. No won- 
der the good old man was sad ! His last days were 
full of sorrow. He lived only because he had to. 
He hoped for relief when he reached the other shore, 
and anxiously he wondered when the boatman 
would come for him ! 



Ideal Parents. 

We are told of a devout minister who seldom 
preaches from the pulpit, though called to the min- 
istry many years ago. He raised a large family, and 
all of his children, though grown, have the utmost 
confidence in him. They know their father to be an 
honest, truthful, consistent and pious man. In their 
meditations they would never dream of calling in 
question the moral or Christian conduct of their fa- 
ther, for he has lived such a frank and open life be- 
fore his children that they know him most thorough- 
ly. All through life he has taken his children into 
his confidence and all parties came to have perfect 
confidence in each other. 

While the man has never been able to impress the 
people with the thought that he possessed the ability 
to preach, still he has, under all circumstances, 
whether at home or abroad, whether in the country 
or in the city, whether managing his forces on the 
farm or dealing with the merchants, behaved him- 
self like a pure-minded, consecrated minister of the 
Gospel. There are scores among his best friends 
who question his ability to fill the pulpit in a 
creditable manner, but all concede the fact that the 
man's life measures up to the very highest standard 
of the most eloquent, influential and learned in the 

179 



180 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

pulpits of the country. There are thousands who 
can easily excel him in the pulpit, but there are 
few, if any, who can excel him in living the Christ- 
life. 

As an ideal man for the pulpit he would receive 
few votes, even in his own congregation, where he 
is so well known and highly respected, but as a 
model Christian man he would receive the endorse- 
ment of all the people in his community, even those 
of other persuasions. He lacks in ability as a public 
expounder of the great truths of the Bible, but in 
faithfulness he fills the gospel measure to perfection. 
The man is no scholar ; he is not even a gifted think- 
er, and yet his manner of life is as beautiful and as 
entertaining as a poem. 

His wife is also an aged saint, with moral, re- 
ligious and motherly attainments second to none. 
She is held in high esteem alike by her children and 
neighbors. These two aged people have lived to- 
gether as husband and wife more than sixty years. 
They have had their trials and reverses, but it is 
said, — and no one who knows them doubts the 
statement, — that during their married life neither 
one has ever spoken an unkind or hasty word to the 
other. They have plenty of temper. They are from 
families noted for the fire and vim in their make-up, 
yet the love, respect and very high regard they have 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 181 

for one another have enabled them to keep their 
tempers completely in hand. In this they have acted 
wisely, not alone for their own good, but for the 
good of their children. 

Not many children, if asked to do so, could truth- 
fully affirm that they never heard either of their par- 
ents utter an unkind or hasty word to the other. 
Thrice blessed are the sons and daughters who, all 
through life, can feel that their parents lived a life 
so worthy of commendation. They may not be able 
to refer to them on account of special attainments in 
scholarship, wealth or popularity, but they can al- 
ways feel honored for the reason that they made 
the Christian life an eminent success. 

No more helpful heritage can be passed down to 
children than the nobility acquired by living on a 
high moral and religious plane. Children may waste 
the money or even, tarnish the good name that falls 
to them, but they can never get away from the up- 
lifting and purifying influences of devout parents 
who live the ideal life. They may forget the com- 
rades of early life; they may even forget the 
scenes of childhood, but time can never remove from 
their souls the clearly-defined impressions made by 
the godly father and the angelic mother. 



The Beggar. 

In Luke 16 a very touching story is told of an un- 
fortunate man who breathed his last while near the 
gate of a rich man. His name was Lazarus, and his 
last days were spent as a beggar. The story is very 
short, in fact too short to contain the history of the 
man. But he had a history nevertheless. 

There may have been a period in his life when he 
was in good circumstances. He may have had a 
loving mother and a kind father. His boyhood 
tmay have been passed most pleasantly. At any 
rate he grew to manhood, and entered upon the 
task of making his own way through the world. 
Morally and religiously he was doubtless an exem- 
plary young man, and the outlook in the world was 
as good for him as for the average person in his 
circumstances. 

There may have come a time in his life when 
each evening, after the labors of the day were com- 
pleted, he could return to his own vine-clad cottage 
on the hillside, and enjoy the society of an affec- 
tionate wife and the comforts and joys of a charm- 
ing home. How many years were spent in this 
manner we have no way of knowing, but we can 
well imagine that such may have been, for a while 
at least, his good fortune. 

182 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 183 

But there came an unwelcomed change. The 
loving wife was torn from his heart and embrace, 
and assigned a resting place in the tomb. Then, in 
course of years, the delightful home slipped away 
from him. Just how this happened we can only im- 
agine. Sickness in the family may have caused debts 
that increased as the years went by. The death of 
the angel of his household left him discouraged, 
and he went out into the world despondent and with 
a broken heart. To him life lost all its charms. The 
loss of his home brought additional hardships, and 
then followed sickness. 

The loss of his health was the matter of only a few 
years. With wife, money and health all gone, friends 
were few. There may have been a time in life when 
he could have numbered his friends by the score. 
But our story finds him without friends as well as 
without health, and without money. Matters went 
from bad to worse, and he became a most unfortu- 
nate beggar. He could no more walk the streets 
in quest of alms. All he could do was to lie, day 
after day, at the gate of a rich man, begging for only 
the crumbs that came from those who had plenty. 
Terrible was the condition of his flesh, for he seemed 
to have been greatly infested with sores, and it was 
a comfort to have the dogs of the street lick them. 

Most people who knew him probably thought of 



184 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

his condition when he lived happily in the little 
cottage on the hillside. "What a change," they 
would say. " How the man has fallen ! " Yes, it 
may have looked that way to man, but God did not 
see it in that light. God was not looking at the 
diseased body; he was all the while looking at the 
soul. But the end came at last. The poor beggar 
closed his eyes in death, with only the dogs to 
watch by his side. He passed away without one 
loving hand to aid him in his deep distress. How 
he may have longed for the presence of a dear wife 
or a loving mother! But no one came to comfort 
him. His only relief was death. 

At public expense his body was taken to the pot- 
ter's field, and there buried. Many who hap- 
pened to know him probably felt that death came 
none too soon, and in all likelihood thought it was 
fortunate that he died. He was soon forgotten, for 
the people regarded him only as an unfortunate 
beggar. 

They never knew, of course, that angels stood by 
him when his heart ceased to beat, and then bore 
his spirit to paradise. They never knew that during 
all his misfortunes his soul remained true to God, 
and that by him it was claimed for the land of the 
blest. But so it was with Lazarus. He made life a 
success. While the rich around him made life a 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 185 

failure, the poor, unfortunate beggar made it a 
crowning success. The moral of this story teaches 
that we should never look down on a man simply 
because he is poor and unfortunate. In the dis- 
eased and scantily-clad body may be hidden one of 
the noblest souls. It is altogether probable that not 
a few of the finest ornaments to be found in the New 
Jerusalem will be from bodies scorned and despised 
of men. God looks upon the heart. 



Flowers for the Living. 

I once stood by a costly casket. It contained all 
that was mortal of a faithful wife. Like other girls 
she came into the world and grew to womanhood. 
Her environments were pleasant, and she knew 
much of the real enjoyments pertaining to the 
springtime of life. She was not only a lover of the 
beautiful, but among the young she was regarded as 
the most charming of women. But few sorrows 
crossed her path. She knew the world only to love 
it. 

But there came a day when she stood by the side 
of a young man, who had won her heart, and lis- 
tened to the man of God, who in solemn tones pro- 
nounced them one. Years came and went. A few 
children called her mother, and for them she gave 
her life as well as her charms. In time the well- 
known marks of care sat heavily upon her face. 
One seeing her near the autumn of life would never 
have imagined that she was at one time considered 
more lovely than the rose of Sharon. Her beauty 
had faded, and the earnest look of a busy life 
marked every lineament of the face that could have 
served the most gifted artist as a model. 

Her love for flowers never left her, and so she 
filled her windows and a part of her yard with them. 

186 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 187 

Her children and her neighbors also admired her 
flowers. The husband was a busy man. He loved 
his wife in a matter-of-fact way. They commenced 
their struggles with the busy world very early in 
life, and had long since taken not a few things, re- 
lating to love and affection, for granted. When I 
stood by the casket it was almost covered with the 
most lovely of flowers. They were procured in a 
large city, and cost twenty or more dollars. The 
good woman had closed her eyes in death a few 
days before, but in all her life she had probably 
never seen flowers so lovely as those placed upon 
her casket in the presence of the admiring hun- 
dreds. I thought the people that day paid more at- 
tention to the flowers than to the sermon or the 
prayers. To them the flowers seemed a wonderful 
token of great affection. 

Well, I fell to thinking, and wondered why peo- 
ple wait until their loved ones are dead before they 
think of flowers. How much better it would have 
been, for this hard-working wife, if some of that 
money had been spent for flowers while she was 
living ! Perhaps the husband had never thought of 
purchasing a rose or carnation for his most devoted 
companion. He could not see what good it would 
do, and then, of course, he did not have the money 
to spare. But as soon as she was dead, and could 



188 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

no more appreciate a token of love, he had plenty of 
money to give, in order to make a display before the 
world. 

It is said that one flower in the sick room is worth 
a whole bouquet at a funeral. Why do not people 
think of this, and give their flowers when they can 
be appreciated! A rose, costing only a nickel, will 
do the sick wife a thousand times more good than a 
wreath costing five dollars will do on the closed 
coffin. If a husband has money to spend for the 
finest flowers that grow, why not purchase some for 
the loved one while she can enjoy them ! 

For my part, I would like to see a change. I 
prefer to see the flowers sent to the sick room, but 
omitted at the funeral. If any of your friends are 
sick, send them a flower. If one is sent every day 
or two it will be only the better. At the funeral 
your flowers will do no good. In heaven you will 
not receive a blessing for them, but for every flower 
you place in the sick room, or in the hands of a 
loved one, you shall not fail to receive a reward. 
God did not make the flowers for the dead, he made 
them for the living. Then let the living have them 
when they will do their hearts good. 



The Brave Mother. 

It was the middle of the afternoon of a busy day 
that I closed my desk, passed down to the street 
and one-half hour later found myself approaching 
a home, where crepe hung from the front door. 
Men and women, young and old, were filling the 
rooms. I was given a seat in the room occupied by 
the mourners, though I was not of the kindred. The 
white casket, almost covered with flowers of the 
season, was in one corner of the same room. 

The casket contained all that was mortal of a boy 
who was sleeping his last sleep. I could see his 
well-formed face from where I was sitting, for his 
head seemed to be resting upon a small pillow, 
placed there by loving hands. The ministers took 
their places and all was quiet, seemingly as still as 
death. We were with the dead. 

I was to be a quiet listener and observer, and so 
was left to meditate. I fell to thinking, and called 
to mind some of the scores of instances where I had 
spoken words of comfort to the bereft, and gave 
words of warning to others in the presence of the 
departed. Then I remembered that I had stood by 
the dead on both continents, that I had stood by the 
tombs of some of the most distinguished dead the 
world had ever known, that I had been in the death 

189 



190 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

chambers of the rich and poor, of saints and sinners, 
of the devout and vicious. 

I fell to meditating, and even meditated as the of- 
ficiating minister read and prayed. I listened and 
meditated too, for there are times when one may do 
both. I said to myself: This lad is not dead. He 
does not look like one who is dead. He is just sleep- 
ing. The machinery of the body has stopped, the 
fires have gone out, there is nothing to warm the 
life-giving blood. What if Jesus would enter the 
room, rekindle the fires, warm up the blood, touch 
the secret spring of life and again put the machine 
in motion! There would be joy in the family, faith 
in hundreds of souls would be revived, and all the 
city would come to the humble home to look upon 
the lad enjoying his second lease on life. But it was 
really the resurrection scene that was passing be- 
fore my mind. A little later and this will come to 
pass. The lad may rest a while, a number of sad 
days may come to the parents, but the Master will, 
by and by, appear upon the scene of action, press 
the unseen button, and the boy will awaken from 
his long, sweet sleep. 

The minister had said his last word, the last song 
was sung and the people had passed the casket, tak- 
ing their last look at the sleeping lad. There was a 
lull for a moment, then a few kindred stood by the 



OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 191 

casket. Then occurred what I had never seen before. 
The mother moved to the side of her boy, adjusted 
the pillow to suit her idea of comfort, placed a small 
bunch of flowers by the partly turned face, so the 
eyes might fall upon them should they open, and 
arranged parts of the garment, requiring only the 
touch of a mother. Then she gathered up what 
looked to me like a soft, thin blanket, covered the 
boy gently, tucking the blanket in here and there, 
just as a mother is often seen to do when preparing 
her child for the night. The movements of her hands 
and eyes indicated that it was all natural rather than 
premeditated. Not another hand or foot in the rooms 
moved while this was going on. It was the work of 
but a minute, but it seemed like many. She paused 
an instant, taking a good look at the covered form, 
as though she thought her child was now prepared 
for his long night's sleep, then raising her veil, 
kissed his brow good-night and resumed her seat 
with perfect composure. 

There were, at this moment, probably no dry eyes 
in seeing distance. Strong men wept like children, 
though not a word had been said. But to myself I 
said: " Brave mother.'' Then again I thought, Why 
not? It was the mother's boy. Hundreds of times 
she had tucked the covers around him in bed, plant- 
ed the good-night kiss and wished him pleasant 



192 OUR SATURDAY NIGHT 

dreams, only to greet her bright, loving boy in the 
morning. And now, in this his last sleep, why 
should not the kind mother give to his preparation 
the finishing touch? 

The casket was closed and an hour later the moth- 
er saw her boy placed in what is to be called the 
lad's bedchamber until the angel from on high calls 
out the resurrection morning. It is seemingly an in- 
stance in which the boy goes to his final rest a short 
time before the parents retire. But when the even- 
ings now come to the brave little mother she will 
never need to say to herself — as thousands of sad 
mothers have said — " Oh, where is my boy to- 
night? " The mother knows that her boy is quietly 
tucked away in his little white bed, just where she 
left him when she gave him the last good-night kiss. 

t<5* *£& «5* 

Life! we've been long together 

Through pleasant and through cloudy weather; 

'Tis hard to part when friends are dear, — 

Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear; 

Then steal away, give little warning, 
Choose thine own time; 
Say not " Good night," but in some brighter clime 

Bid me " Good morning."— Mrs. Barbauld. 



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